Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness
by TheRealEvanSG
Summary: It is the summer after the Second Giant War. When a new group of enemies emerges, claiming to be gods from another world, it is time for three new demigods to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. Their mission? Find Leo Valdez, for new information states he could be alive; rescue the mysteriously godnapped Apollo; and slay the Python, so his prophecies can work again. OCs inside!
1. I Slide into a Dangerous Situation

[Full Summary]

**The Second Giant War is over and the demigods have won. The Greek and Roman camps are finally united. Percy and his girlfriend finally have the chance to live normal lives in New Rome, without monsters, Titans, Gaea, or crazy gods to worry about. Jason has kept his promise and is hard at work giving all the gods shrines, temples, or at least trading cards. But not all is well. Leo Valdez is still missing, thought to have died sacrificing himself in the final battle against Potty Face. The Romans (under Reyna and Frank's leadership) are struggling to grasp some sense of normalcy after Octavian's betrayal. Apollo is desperately trying to reclaim Zeus's trust, and the Oracle still has not spoken. And although a year has passed and summer has rolled around again, the days are mysteriously getting shorter.**

**When Ella the harpy remembers an old prophecy, a new quest is set into motion. Three new demigods head off on the adventure of a lifetime. Their mission? To find Leo Valdez, for new information hints towards his survival; to rescue the mysteriously godnapped Apollo; and to uncover the truth behind new enemies who claim to be gods from another universe.**

**Now let's get it started, shall we? Chapter One, start!**

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><p><span>Chapter One<span>

I Slide into a Slightly Dangerous Situation

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><p>The first clue that the end of the world had started was the fact that I moved to a different state.<p>

Dad hated change. He'd been forced to go to school in ten different places as a kid, and that was before he even reached high school, so he swore he'd always keep me in one town. He wanted to give me the opportunity he never had to make friends and stay with them. It worked at first. I've always been scrawny and doubtful of my own strength. The ADHD and dyslexia didn't help, either, but my jokes managed to make up for that. I was the weird but funny kid, the kind that even the meanest bullies kept around for a couple of laughs.

That was where my trouble started.

It began on a field trip to some boring science museum in Ohio whose name I don't even remember. (That's where I live, by the way - - up in the least important state of the US.) The other boys of the group were flirting with the girls, attempting to flirt with the girls, being total doofuses, and generally not paying attention. The girls were completely ignoring the guys and texting on the their expensive smartphones. Sometimes they spent so much time texting, I swore one of them would end up marrying their iWhatevers. The teacher either had no control over the group, didn't give a crap, or both. My vote was on both.

I was telling jokes to the big, beefy jocks who were two stupid to do any of those things.

For a while, it went fine. I poked fun at blondes, quoted nigahiga videos, and made some quips about our school principal's Dumbledore beard. But I soon exhausted my usual repertoire. That made me a little nervous. At my old school - - Oakwood High - - as long as your family was whiny and had enough money, your kid got any position of anything he/she wanted. That was how a lot of the jocks had won their way into the High School football team, and they were kind of sensitive about it. They didn't like anyone else in the ninth grade, sure that all the other kids secretly hated them for it, and I was no exception. The only reason they stuck around me was my amazing sense of humor, and now that it was dwindling down, they were beginning to remember they were supposed to hate me. I could tell from their slowly deepening scowls aimed in my direction.

I nervously took a few steps back.

"And what we have here is the Photic Gallery," said the tour guide amiably. She had led us into a room with a strobe party for a ceiling. Various objects were roped off around the dark gallery, like telescopes, a magnifying glass, and cameras. There was even a hose spraying water into a small pool, with a bright light shining on the water spray to create a thin rainbow. "Collectors from around the globe have donated us several amazing light-related objects. Everything in this gallery uses light in some way. We have the world's largest convex mirror here. Well, third largest, anyway. I wouldn't have admitted that, but they don't pay me enough to keep me telling lies about the exhibits..."

Our class tour group wandered around the Photic Gallery. The jocks and I started to pass the rainbow fountain.

One of them studied me. "You got any funnier jokes?" he said gruffly. He already had enough facial hair that he looked like a mini King Kong. Like, seriously, hadn't anyone taught him how to shave?

"Um... alright, I'll shoot," I said, thinking quickly. "What about this one? Mr. Red lives in the red house. Mr. Green lives in the green house. Mr. Yellow lives in the yellow house, and Mr. Blue lives in the blue house. So where does Barack Obama live?"

"How am I supposed to know? That had too many periods," mumbled another of them.

The first shot him a weird look. "What the heck are you talking about?" He turned back to me, thinking. Then he said confidently, "The black house."

"Wrong, you racist," I snickered. "He lives in the White House!"

"Hey, I'm not racist!"

The jocks glowered at me. I gulped. I hadn't meant to actually call him racist, but it had just been too funny. (By the way, test that joke on your friends - - it's a great way to tell which of them are racist and which of them can actually think!) I glanced anxiously to the left. The fountain creating the rainbow was right next to me. From the way the football guys were glaring, their hands clenching and unclenching, I could tell I was about to take an unplanned swim. I tried to position myself in a way that they wouldn't be able to push me into the fountain, but they cut me off.

"You've gone too far this time, _Alistair_," growled the jock I'd called a racist.

His big buddies behind him nodded so hard they looked like oversized woodpeckers. "Yeah!" they agreed in sync. "Too freakin' far!"

"I hope you brought your swim trunks and a pillow, because tonight you'll be sleepin' with the fishes!"

"Yeah!" his buddies crowed. "With the freakin' fishes!"

"Shut up," mumbled the first guy over his shoulder.

I probably should've kept my mouth shut, but I said, "Well, actually, there aren't any fish in that fountain, and fishes isn't actually a word..."

The jock's eye twitched. "That's it!" he cried. "I hate it when people twist what I say around!" He stomped forward as the teacher, attracted by his shout, turned towards us curiously. My hopes were lifted. Perhaps I wouldn't have take a full-clothes bath! I really hoped not, because I had my phone and 3DS in my pocket - - Can you blame me? Super Smash Bros for 3DS was the best thing since sliced bread! - - and they really worked better when _not_ soaking wet. But before the teacher could shout to us, the football-playing bullies were already upon me. I felt two powerful, meaty hands shove against my chest, and suddenly I was reeling backward.

My feet hit the stone edge of the fountain. The world tipped backward, and I was momentarily weightless, suspended over the fountain waters in mid-fall.

Then, the strangest thing happened.

You know that feeling you get when you eat twenty packets of Sour Skittles at once - - an intense buzzing in your head, like a thousand bees decided to build a hive in your gray matter? I experienced that coupled with a swirl of colors in front of my eyes, as if I'd fallen into the fountain's rainbow. A moment later, my whole body felt like it was being compressed in a car crusher. An intense burst of fear bubbled up in my chest. What was going on? Was I having some weird nightmare? Maybe I had never actually been on the school field trip. Maybe the bullies hadn't pushed me into the fountain. Yeah, that was it - - it was all the product of a weird mushroom, or a piece of badly digested beef. I was really in my bed, probably sweating buckets. It was just a really bad, and weird, nightmare.

But if that was true, then why did it hurt so much?

As quickly as the weird sugar high, rainbow vision, and body-crushing sensation began, it all stopped.

The world went back to normal.

I was suddenly falling into the fountain again. I landed in it with a light splash, and luckily it wasn't too deep. I had fallen in such a way that only the top half of my body was submerged in the water, and it was only partly submerged at that. My phone and 3DS had been saved, but I was still in shock. The Vision (as I would call it later) had left me shaken, staring up at the Photic Gallery ceiling with wide, unfocused eyes. I almost didn't realize that everything was, in fact, normal again.

"Al!" the teacher's voice called. It sounded like he was speaking from the other end of a long and echoey tunnel.

I noticed vaguely that I was panting harder than if I'd run a marathon. I took some deep breaths; tried to slow my breathing down. Some water from the hose sprayed onto my slightly tan face.

"Alistair!"

I finally felt as if I could breath normally again and took in my surroundings. I was still in the Photic Gallery of the museum whose name I couldn't remember. Cold water was freezing my back and soaking my T-shirt. My teacher had put the jocks in the custody of the tour guide, who was properly admonishing them. He himself was standing over me, offering me a kind hand.

"Alistair Shepherd," he said again, his eyes bunched up worriedly. "Are you quite alright? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

I blinked, wondering just what had happened to me. "Um, yeah," I said with some confusion.

The teacher looked like he didn't believe me, but he sighed, offered me a hand anyway, and helped me out of the fountain. It wouldn't be until I looked back on the incident months later that I would realize my clothes dried the moment I got out of the fountain, or that my skin had never been wet at all.

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><p>Everything went downhill from there. I got over the Fountain Incident rather quickly, but The Vision haunted my dreams for weeks afterwards. I would wake up in a cold sweat, my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I actually screamed once. That was how my dad found out about it. He heard my shout and ran up to my bedroom (which was always really messy; I'm no good at housework). He demanded to know why I looked so scared, and I told him about what happened at the museum.<p>

"I just couldn't do anything against those big jerks," I mumbled, embarrassed. "I'm too weak. And that vision thing was freaky."

Dad closed his eyes thoughtfully. After a while, he said, "You know, Al, sometimes you don't have to be the strongest to make an impression on someone. And although there are annoying people in the world, there's times when you have to hold your tongue. Even if you aren't physically the strongest, you don't always have to make up for it with burning comebacks and snappy remarks. It took me a while to learn that, and I'm sure it won't come easy to you, either - - but when you understand, you'll be better off for it."

I stared at him in angered shock. How could he say something like that to me at this time? I clenched my bedsheets in my fist. It was as if he didn't even care that the jocks had bullied me. He was blaming _me_ for what had happened! I glared at him.

"If you're going to blame me for it, then just go away!" I said, my voice raising in volume.

Dad looked away, his teeth gritted tightly. "I was just trying to help!" he said defensively, and stomped briskly out of my room.

It wasn't just problems at home that made the rest of my school year worse. My jokes seemed to be making less and less people laugh. In fact, I was slowly picking up on the fact that the other freshmen were getting increasingly annoyed with me. Usually, I was invited to at least one Christmas party. But as Christmas break rolled by, nobody sent me any letters or Facebook messages. Even my closer friends started distancing themselves from me. It was if I was in a totally different Oakwood High than before the Fountain Incident and The Vision. Even some of the teachers seemed to like me less. Several of them were downright hostile to me.

I'd always been around the top of my class, despite my dyslexia, but my grades slipped. I found myself more stressed than usual. I even started picking fights (and losing, of course) with some of the other kids in my grade, something extremely unusual for me. I distracted myself by spending more time than ever playing video games. I talked back to teachers and even made fun of the principal's Dumbledore beard to his face. If Oakwood High would choose to turn its back on me, I had decided that I would return the favor.

Finally, the school couldn't handle me anymore.

I was called down to the principal's office one day in late March, where I was told that I would no longer be welcomed at Oakwood High. I would have to find a new school to go to.

Fine, I told myself. I never liked that school much anyway. Even before all of this started happening, I had felt out of place, like I didn't really belong there. The fact that everybody there decided to hate me only cemented the feeling. The only problem I could see was that my dad would be disappointed with me. I knew that he'd only wanted for me to make friends, and in the end, I hadn't been able to do that.

Sure enough, when my dad got home from work that night - - he was a journalist for the town newspaper - - he didn't speak to me for the whole evening. He avoided me for several days. I could tell he was intensely upset with me. When he wouldn't see me for long periods of time, it was usually so that he wouldn't yell at me. It almost hurt worse than actually getting punished.

A few words about Dad: his full name is Carson Abraham Shepherd, he's tall and strong-willed, and he's been through a hell of a lot. Part of the latter was a result of all the moving around he'd done as a kid. He'd gotten mixed up with gangs in L.A.; he used to be addicted to smoking cigarettes; and he'd once been arrested for shoplifting a store in New York City. He'd even lived in Costa Rica for some time, which he claims was the worst three months of his life. He used to be somewhat handsome but you wouldn't know if you looked at him now. He has a pot belly, rings of frown wrinkles outline his forehead, and his hair started turning silvery-gray by the time he reached forty.

He always said I look like my mom - - somewhat small for my age, with bright red hair and sea green eyes. My eyebrows were somewhat bushy and my arms and legs were dotted with freckles. Despite not being particularly muscly, I was surprisingly quick on my feet and had even thought about joining the cross-country team once or twice. Obviously, that wasn't going to happen now.

Finally, on the Sunday night after I got expelled, Dad had calmed down enough to speak to me. "Alistair," he said, and I immediately knew this was a serious conversation. He only ever used my full name when what he was talking about was of great importance. "I need you to listen to me. For the past few months, you haven't been yourself. You've been angry. I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, and tell it from the way you act. You've never been very good at concealing your emotions."

"As if you've ever taken the time to ask me how I feel," I muttered.

We were sitting on the leather couch in our small living room, watching Sunday night football. It was dark and rainy outside. Black storm clouds covered the night sky like an ominously fluffy blanket.

Dad flushed. "That's not fair, Al. I've done all I can to make you happy, but you haven't used what I've given you."

"What you've _given me_?" I repeated in frustration. "Like what, Dad? Words of discouragement?"

"I never tried to discourage you, Alistair. I've only tried to give you advice to make you a better person. I want you to be the best man you can be. Clearly Oakwood High could not turn you into that man. We need to discuss where to send you - -"

My voice cracked. "Where to _send_ me? Don't tell me you're planning on putting me in a boarding school!"

"Don't be silly. We live in _Ohio_. Since when did you ever hear of a boarding school in Ohio? I've never liked that idea, anyway. No, Al, I simply meant that I have to get you into another school. It may be too late to get you into one this year - - it's already March, after all - - but I can at least home school you until your sophomore year, if we can't do that. In any case, we need to find a new school."

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said. On the TV, the home team scored a touchdown, drawing uproarious cheers from the fans.

"I've already contacted several different schools in the area, but none of them want to take you in. I've thought about it, and I remembered that my own dad - - your grandpa - - used to own an apartment in New York City, and never sold it. He left it to me in his will, though I've never thought about it since then. I could quit my job for the newspaper and sell this house, then we could move there. Maybe I can get a job for the New York Times, though I doubt it since I have a criminal record."

"You mean we'd live in New York? But what about our family here in Ohio... Aunt Josephine and Uncle James?"

Dad shrugged. "I never liked my brother much, anyway. He doesn't like me either. I'm sure I've told you about the time he gave me a lump of coal for Christmas, didn't I?"

In spite of myself, I smiled. "Yeah," I said, "and you put shavings from it in his coffee."

"So, New York it is?"

I considered it. I'd always sort of wanted to see the Big Apple, and it wasn't like Ohio was that important to me, anyway. I didn't have any friends here, anymore. My house certainly had a lot memories, but I was feeling like I needed change. Ohio was pretty enough in summer, with tall fields of corn, rolling green hills, and tons of forests, but it was kinda drab in winter. You weren't even guaranteed snow where we lived. Plus, everyone in my family besides my Dad, Aunt Josephine, and Uncle James were either dead, or hadn't been heard from in years.

I nodded. "Alright. New York it is."

Little did I know that would be one of the worst, and yet best, decisions of my life.

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><p><strong>There you go! The first chapter of Alistair's story is finished. I'm feeling good about this fanfiction, and I hope you all enjoy it, too. I know how much you all hate Mary Sues and Gary Stus - - this isn't my first rodeo, after all - - and I will try to make all of my original characters as far from those as possible. I will also be keeping all canon pairings and personalities, and will try to be as true to the books as I can. Also, I picked up on the fact that Uncle Rick was somewhat hinting toward Nico di Angelo and Will Solace dating in the future, so that will probably come up in later chapters, or perhaps later books. Even though I am a boy myself, I am perfectly accepting of the fact that not all of the canon characters are straight.<br>**

**I welcome everyone to read this fanfiction and appreciate any follows, favorites, and reviews that I may receive! Please note, however, that flames will be duly ignored. If there is something you do not like about my fanfic, please tell it to me in a kind and sophisticated manner. I will gladly take constructive criticism, however. Do not hesitate to inform me if I accidentally create plot holes or spelling/grammar mistakes. I'm not perfect, after all; it's bound to happen. **

**Happy reading, and Happy New Year's!**

**-TheRealEvanSG**


	2. Big Apple, Big Danger

**Hello again, everybody, and thank you for moving on to chapter two! I hope you find this fanfic enjoyable and memorable. But if you're the kind of person who wants the story to turn out all sunshine and roses, well... this might not be the fanfic for you. Not all of my characters are gonna be around to see the end. Sacrifices will have to be made and allies will be lost... but enough of that morbid chit-chat! Let's actually do what we're here to do and tell a story, shall we?**

**Please note that I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Rick Riordan does. And although I am quite good at writing, I am no where near as good as Uncle Rick.**

**Yet.**

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><p><span>Chapter 2<span>

Big Apple, Big Danger

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><p>If there was one thing I learned the next Tuesday, it was that I hated road trips.<p>

We spent the entire next morning packing everything we needed into the family car. Luckily, since it was only Dad and I and we weren't exactly rich, we didn't have much. Dad called the landlord of Grandpa's apartment building and informed her that we would be coming to live there. He also called his boss and told him he was quitting, which was quite a shock to the man. Luckily, Dad had already finished his article for the week (he writes _fast_).

When we had shoved our last few articles of clothing into our suitcases and carefully stacked the last few pictures on the back seat, it was already dark and we were dead tired. We decided to call it a night. I had a sound and dreamless sleep. On Tuesday morning, I felt more refreshed than I had been in months.

The two of us ate a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, then ran around and made sure everything we needed was in the car. Grey clouds again hung in the sky; the weathermen predicted a 75% chance of rain. I unplugged all my gaming devices and put them in the trunk, saving my 3DS, iPod, and my old GameBoy to play in the car. I had charged all of them over night, so they all had full batteries. We pulled out of the driveway and barely went a full mile before Dad freaked - - he'd forgotten his glasses and couldn't see in bad weather, or at night, without them.

"So, how do you feel about going to live in New York City?" asked Dad once we'd finally left for good.

Sitting beside him in shot-gun, I shrugged and said, "I dunno. A little nervous, kind of excited."

We were driving through the hilly countryside enroute to our first stop - - the town newspaper building, so Dad could drop off his last article. After that, we'd go up past Youngstown on our way to the highway, then merge onto it and head to the Big Apple.

It took about a quarter of an hour to get into town. I was feeling anxious to get on the highway, and stared out the window. Strangely, I saw what looked like an old woman with snake skin walking an impossibly large Chihuahua, which unless I was mistaken had a _fanged serpent for a tail_. I blinked and did a double-take, whirling back around to the street. But the snake-skinned woman and the serpent-tailed Chihuahua were gone.

I rubbed my eyes. I must not have gotten quite as good a sleep as I'd thought.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful, which was part of the reason why I decided I hated road trips. It was boring, and all of my devices died by the time we finally reached New York City. At least I got to take my first real look at the city. Enormous skyscrapers towered all around us, making my head spin a little. Yellow taxis and angry drivers clogged up the grid of streets. It was certainly crowded, but honestly, it was a lot... emptier than I had imagined it being. There were certainly people out and about on the streets, but only as many as I imagined normal cities would have. Perhaps everyone was in the many restaurants and stores that I was noticing.

My stomach growled. The last thing I'd had to eat was a McDouble and fries three hours ago.

Dad was frowning at the cars in front of him. "Stupid traffic," he muttered, glaring out the front windshield.

"Hey, Dad," I said, "when are we going to get to our apartment?"

"We'd be there by now if it wasn't for these stupid, clogged-up streets. Hasn't New York ever heard of traffic cops?" He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, anyway, we should arrive at our new home in about... fifteen minutes, given this terrible traffic. I just hope my car's bumpers are okay by the end of the week," he added under his breath.

The rest of the day passed in a bit of a blur. I remember being amazed at my first sight of the Empire State Building, whose importance would later become permanently etched into my mind; finally parking in front of the brownstone which would now be our home; lugging pictures, suitcases, and a gamut of game stations up many flights of stairs - - needless to say, we didn't get it all in one trip.

The brownstone building was about nine stories high and remarkably quiet. It didn't exactly look like much from the hallway/stairwell. Its wallpaper was a faded cream color, and the carpet on the steps looked like it was fraying. There were some mirrors on the walls, all of which were dusty and in desperate need of a good cleaning. Our apartment itself, though, was a different story. It was decidedly small. The main room was about the size of a hotel room and the bathroom didn't have a bathtub, only a shower. That wasn't the good part, though. The wallpaper was a cheerful yellow. The window had green curtains. The floor was wooden, with luxurious, ovular, green rugs. It had an up-to-date dishwasher and drier, fridge/freezer, etc. There was even a flatscreen HDTV.

I immediately loved the place.

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><p>Alright, alright, I'll admit it.<p>

It's a bit embarrassing, but... for the first few days, I was scared to go out of our apartment.

The excitement of going somewhere new had all but completely vanished, seemingly overnight. I had another, incredibly realistic nightmare of The Vision. I also recalled in my dreams the snake-skinned woman and the serpent-tailed Chihuahua that I'd seen back in my first hometown. Call me paranoid, but I suspected the two incidents were connected. Also, I was homesick. The bright, booming city was the polar opposite of the open countryside that had been the only thing I'd ever known.

It rained on the first day. The storm had trailed us from Ohio to New York, and I used it as an excuse to stay home.

Dad insisted on homeschooling me. "Even if we can't get you into a new school immediately," he said as rain pounded against our new apartment's window, "you still need education. That and it's illegal to not provide your child with schooling of some sort in America."

Therefore, he embarked on an attempt to educate me... by teaching me how to cook.

"Um," I spoke up nervously, "this doesn't seem like a good idea."

Dad scoffed. "Oh, come on, Al. You'll be fine."

I almost burned the brownstone down.

"Alright, forget the authorities," coughed Carson Shepherd as black smoke billowed up from the stove. "Your education can wait. I really wish we had text books or something..." He stumbled to the window and, despite the storm, opened it wide enough for the smoke to clear. Dad's silvery hair had darkened from the accident.

I didn't bother to point out that this was the age of the Internet, and there were homeschooling websites.

By Friday, I was feeling better about the city again. I was still nervous, but some of the excitement was returning. Dad seemed to notice this, and looked relieved. He handed me a few ten dollar bills and told me to go out somewhere and buy myself something. Over the next few weeks, I explored the streets.

Walking the streets of New York City felt like a dream. The city was enormous, like an ancient, dense forest that someone had planted and allowed to become completely wild. It seemed there was no end to the organized mess of shops, ice cream trucks, people, high-end department stores, and skyscrapers. There were people of every shape and color, every ethnicity you could imagine. I saw several homeless people sitting on the street and holding signs that pleaded for money or food.

And a couple of times, I saw strange things, too.

When I passed by a large brick building with a sign that (after I deciphered it) read _Goode University_, I noticed a tall boy who was older than me, with black hair and eyes the same color of green as mine. He wore an orange T-shirt with a name of some organization stenciled on it. It looked like it said BAMC HLAP-FLOOD. The words' font - - red, loopy cursive - - was murder on my dyslexic eyes, like some drunk god was purposefully playing a sick joke on me. Anyway, the weird part was that next to the boy stood an impossibly large, monstrous, black dog. It leaned against him and slobbered over the sidewalk. Its bark was as loud as cannonfire and made my ears ring.

"Why are you so excited, Mrs. O'Leary?" sighed the boy, scratching the monster dog's ears. He looked to be about eighteen. "We're not going back to Camp until college is out. We're only visiting my mom."

Mrs. O'Leary let out a woof like a fog horn.

The boy blinked and looked at me. He seemed to realize I was staring slack-jawed at his pet.

"Hey, dude," he called, raising an eyebrow. "Can you see her?"

I stared at him, flabbergasted. "How could I _not_ see a dog the size of an overweight tour bus?"

He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers in my direction and said, "No, mortal, she's just a normal... uh... Doberman."

"She's clearly not a normal _anything,_ and what do you mean by 'mortal?'" I returned heatedly.

Before he got a chance to reply, a blonde wearing the same orange shirt as the older boy rushed up the street, shouting, "Hey, Seaweed Brain! Chiron called! A pack of Stymphalian birds is attacking some pedestrians in Time Square!"

My eye twitched. _Seaweed Brain_? _Chiron_? _Stymphalian birds_? _Mortal_? Were they codewords or something? And what on Earth was the deal with that giant dog?

"Um, but - -" Seaweed Brain began to say. The blonde passed us and started pulling him along before he could say anything. "Hey!" He was dragged up the street with the girl unceremoniously. His dog, Mrs. O'Leary, barked with the force of a thunderstorm and bounded after them excitedly. Wherever its feet connected with the sidewalk, the cement cracked. None of the other pedestrians they ran by seemed to notice anything unusual about the dog.

And just like that, they were gone.

_Well,_ I thought in confused annoyance, _t__hat happened._

Another time, I was eating an ice cream cone on a bench in Central Park when a huge and burly Chinese-looking guy came walking down the street, chatting with a light-skinned African American girl. I wasn't trying to listen in on their conversation or anything. Even so, I caught the words _Camp Jupiter, satyr, _and _shadow-travel_. They wore matching purple shirts and had similar tattoos on their arm. And unless I was mistaken, both the Chinese guy and the African American girl were carrying weapons! The former had a slender bow with a quiver of arrows on his back like some kind of Asian Robin Hood. His girlfriend (I assumed they were dating, anyway - - you could tell they were at least very close from the way they acted together) had a golden, curved sword strapped to her side.

I nearly choked on my ice cream cone.

But neither of those were the strangest things.

When I told my dad about my weird encounters over dinner one night, he didn't seem to think I was lying. He frowned worriedly and looked deep in thought. He glanced over at the kitchen counter, where the one thing we had of Mom - - a horn shaped like a conch shell - - sat proudly.

The wrinkles on his forehead deepened and his face paled. "Impossible," he said under his breath, so quietly I could barely hear him. His hands clenched the tablecloth tightly. "Is this your doing, Aquaria? Do you really want your son to have to go through such pain?"

I stared in shock. "What does this have to do with Mom?"

But Dad didn't answer. Instead he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, then released his hands. The tablecloth fell back into place in, slightly wrinklier.

"Alistair," he said calmly, looking me straight in the eyes, "if you are able to see the monsters and the weapons, then your power is awakening. You are in grave danger."

There was a pregnant pause.

I laughed nervously. "W-What...? Power... danger? What do you mean? I don't understand..."

I swallowed dry air.

Dad frowned again and closed his eyes. His hands were shaky. He told me, "I am getting you into a new school as soon as possible. It's almost April, but I'm sure at least _someone_ will accept you. Your scent will be masked by the other kids'. Neither the camps nor the monsters will find you."

He seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than he was reassuring me.

"What the heck are you talking about?" I said.

Dad said nothing the rest of the night.

And that night, neither of us noticed how the shadows in our room moved as if by their own will.

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><p><strong>There it is, folks - - another chapter under the belt! I hope you all had a great New Year's. Unfortunately, I missed the ball drop because I was writing this. XD Oh well. I have a feeling 2015 is going to be a great year for my writing! I'm busy working on this fanfiction, a One Piece fanfic series, a Soul Eater fanfic, and even my own original book! I'm charging forward into this year in style!<strong>

**As I said before, I appreciate any follows, favorites, and reviews I may receive. Reviews are especially appreciated, although flames will be duly ignored. Also, I don't find it necessary to get any of the above. Even if I have 0 follows, 0 favorites, and 0 reviews I will still keep posting chapters, simply for the sake of writing. And if people DO notice me, well... that's all the better!**

**Who else is eagerly awaiting the Magnus Chase series? 'Cause I sure as Hades am!**

**-TheRealEvanSG**


	3. Out of the Frying Pan

**Hello, again, friends and fans! I have a request I'd like to make. If you have created or are a staff of a community about OC stories and the like, could you add this fanfic to it? So far this hasn't been added to any communities, and I would like it to be in at least one. Thanks in advance, and thanks for taking the time to read my story!**

**Now let's move on to chapter three!**

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><p><span>Chapter 3: Out of the Frying Pan...<br>

If I hated road trips, starting at a new school during the final nine weeks was my worst nightmare.

First of all, Lincoln Academy was on totally different subjects than Oakwood High had been. I had no clue what was going on. My dyslexia only made my confusion worse. Secondly, the kids looked like they belonged in either college or jail, not their freshmen year of high school. I felt even smaller, weaker, and less hairy than usual. Thirdly, I was sure one of the teachers hated my guts from the moment she saw me.

No, it's not _that_ kind of teacher hate - - the kind where they always seem to call you out for talking when you're telling an annoying kid to shut up, or when they dock points off your grade for no good reason. Everybody gets those. There were even a couple teachers like that at my old school.

It was like this woman wanted me dead. (Well, she did do all of the above, but I got a different vibe from it.)

Her name was normal enough. She was the history teacher and they called her Mrs. Jones, although she seemed to react rather slowly to that, so I wondered if that wasn't her actual name. She looked normal enough as well. She had long blonde hair that fell down her back elegantly, and she had an average height and build. From the way her face was shaped, I guessed that her family must've been Mediterranean. _Jones_ wasn't a very Mediterranean name, but perhaps they had Americanized it when they came through Ellis Island. Her eyes were piercing blue, like they could see into your soul.

Several of the less innocent guys attending Lincoln Academy thought she was really attractive. I wasn't quite sure what they saw in forty-year-old, possibly evil women.

To give you an example of what I mean, just look at my first day of school.

It was the week after my dad and I had the whole "you're in grave danger" talk. He refused to say anything more on the subject and it was really annoying me. In any case, he managed to find a school that would let me in, the one I've mentioned.

Lincoln Academy was normal enough. It was a modern building on the corner of 25th Avenue, with an elegant marble frame and Greek columns in front of the entrance. There was a huge room in the entrance that served as both the lobby and the lunchroom, and beyond that, two flights of steps that curved up to the second floor, where some of the classes and lockers were. There were other floors than that, most of which contained the other classes/lockers, although the top floor was dedicated to the staff.

It sounds more complicated than it actually was.

The day went by smoothly enough at first, save for my confusion.

I had to introduce myself in each class. When people asked me where I was from and why I had switched schools so late in the school year, I told them that my dad had gotten a job transfer. Which wasn't a full lie. He _had_ gotten a job in a different place. It just wasn't exactly the truth. I felt a little bad about lying to the other students, but then I remembered that they looked like they could use me as a toothpick.

Luckily, nobody tried to pick a fight with me throughout the day. I didn't really talk to anyone because I was nervous, but there was one dude who looked kind of nice. He was big and burly like the rest of them, but seemed to be the strong and silent type. He was tall, blonde, and had a squarish face. I sat behind him in several classes, since he was in the second-to-last seat on the far right. (They apparently decided seating charts with alphabetical order. Booooooring.) When I asked him his name during last period, it took a while for him to reply, but he grunted out, "Kris."

"Is that short for Christopher?" I wondered aloud.

He shrugged. His shoulders were as broad as wings of an airplane. "It's short for Kris."

I blinked and said, "Oh. That's cool."

"Mm," came the reply. Kris was apparently not a man of many words.

"Alistair Shepherd!" shouted the teacher furiously. I jumped and my face fell into a look of horror that probably would've been comical to anyone else.

I squeaked out, "Y-Yes?"

She glared at me with her piercing blue eyes. "There will be no talking," she growled, her voice like curdled milk, "in my classroom at any given time unless I permit it. Refusing to oblige will get you a referral to the office. I informed you of this at the beginning of the period, did I not?"

This was obviously Mrs. Jones - - an impish, mean ol' women who may or may not have been sadistic.

I noticed a lot of the class chuckling, and whispering about me to each other.

Mrs. Jones apparently didn't.

"Because it's your first day," she continued, "I won't write you a referral. You will, however, stay after class to serve detention."

Everyone was staring at me except Kris. My face was the color of summer strawberries. I mumbled, "Yes, ma'am."

The bell rang and the class period ended. Mrs. Jones' voice was now much sweeter than it had been before. "Class, your homework for tonight is to read pages 372 through 396, the Cold War. There are ten vocab words on the bottom of the last page. By now, you know the drill - - numbered, complete sentences, and typed documents are not permitted."

"I hate reading," I heard Kris moan quietly as he shuffled out the door. He had to duck under the top of it.

I said emphatically, "I feel ya, bro."

When the last student had left the classroom, Mrs. Jones turned her gaze on me. She'd been shuffling homeworks at her desk, which was unnaturally tidy, but now it was like her attention was focused 150% on me. Her eyes seemed to zero in on me as if they were sky blue homing missiles. Her amiable half-smile twisted into a deep scowl. She suddenly looked as if she'd known and hated - - no, loathed - - me all her life. She had the same insane killing intent I'd seen in pictures of guys like Hitler and Rasputin.

My hands started shaking. _Relax, Al,_ I told myself. _She's just a teacher. It's not like she's going to pull a gun out and shoot you. Those things only happen in books and movies._

Her eyes bore into my own. Mrs. Jones' scowl became a confused frown - - like a Directioner on YouTube who can't understand why others don't like 1D.

And just as quickly as the moment of hate had occurred, it passed.

I let out a deep breath.

I realized my fingers were drumming a nervous rhythm on the edge of my desk and quickly stopped.

"You confuse me, Alistair Shepherd," the blonde woman said. I blinked in surprise. Before I could say anything she shook her head and went on a totally different subject. "In any case, your detention for today shall be writing the names of each of the Olympian gods three times on the chalk board. When you are done, you may go."

Weird punishment, right? But I couldn't argue about it.

I slid out of my seat, leaving my various textbooks and pencil behind, and went up to the chalkboard. I selected a piece of chalk that wasn't broken too badly. Then I started writing.

Luckily, I enjoyed learning about ancient mythologies, so I knew the twelve most important Greek gods by heart. Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares, Hephaestus, Hera, Dionysus, Apollo, and Artemis. The only one I hesitated on was Hera - - I always forgot she was an Olympian, too. Even so, it took me only about five minutes to complete. When I had written the last letter, I set the chalk down, hurried to my desk, grabbed my stuff, and took off as fast as if I was one of Zeus's lightning bolts.

And Mrs. Jones stared after me with that confused-yet-hate-filled frown.

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><p>The weirdness didn't stop there.<p>

Everyday, Mrs. Jones came to school with her hair done up in a different style. On Monday, it had been combed straight down her back. On Tuesday, she tied it in a ponytail. On Wednesday, it was pigtails. On Thursday, she chose a Princess Leia bun that even the most gangster dudes agreed was completely unattractive. On Friday, she had tied it in a ponytail again, except this time it was draped over her right shoulder. And the next week it was completely different.

Apparently, this was no big surprise when it came to Mrs. Jones. She'd been doing this since the beginning of the year, which was when she'd first been hired.

She also ate the weirdest things for lunch.

There was apparently no teacher's lounge at Lincoln Academy, but there was an area of the cafeteria dedicated solely for staff, and you had to walk past it to buy your lunch. Mrs. Jones always packed, so when we went by her table in the lunch line, we were able to see what she ate.

She often had foreign food that I'd never heard of - - an intensely spicy packet of potato chips from Sweden; microwaveable Italian _focaccia_; and usually a bottle of bubblegum pink juice whose brand name was in Japanese kanji. Her favorite thing, though, was a raw-duck-and-sausage sandwich, complete with ketchup. The smell alone made pretty much everyone want to throw up.

And the two most unusual things about her? She absolutely _despised_ both me (as I've mentioned) and Kris.

Mrs. Jones always knocked off points for the most unfair things on our projects. She went completely out of her way to get Kris and I in detention. I could feel her beady little eyes always trained on me, which made me uncomfortable whenever I was in her classroom; and when she wasn't looking at me, her attention was fixed on Kris.

Once, after she gave me detention for _running to the tissue box_ when I had particularly bad allergies, I told Kris I didn't think she was human.

"Mm," he grunted. "I wouldn't doubt it."

The one good thing that came from all the creepiness was that I was able to become closer friends with Kris. He still didn't talk much, but I could tell he was warming up to me.

He was a bit of a weirdo, too, but not exactly in a bad way. His full name was Kris Smith, and he did _not_ like anything to do with the internet. Actually, he just tended to stay away from technology in general. Whenever I surfed the web, he would look at me like I was summoning evil monsters or something. The big guy didn't have a phone and claimed he didn't have a computer either. I say _claimed_ because I can't imagine how anyone could survive in this age _without_ one. Kris also carried around two twin pistols in his pockets - - I couldn't imagine why, or how he'd never been caught before when there was a very obvious, gun-shaped bulge in his pockets.

I asked him about it once in Central Park, and he replied, "For protection."

"Protection from what?" I said.

He motioned vaguely. "Things."

"...What kind of things?"

"Things you need protection from."

"Oooookay," I said slowly. I waited for the blonde dude to elaborate, but he never did.

Kris could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

The final couple months of school dragged on. Mrs. Jones kept getting tougher and tougher to deal with, and Kris seemed to be increasingly agitated by this. He apparently knew at least karate, because I accidentally saw him practicing his moves in the school gym, when he thought no one was around.

But the strangest thing about my new life in New York City was not Kris or even Mrs. Jones.

Strangely, the days seemed to be getting shorter.

I thought it was just my imagination at first. But when night fell at about seven P.M. on April 5th, I knew it was actually happening. Kris seemed worried about it, too, and he kept looking at the night sky, muttering under his breath about his dad.

By May, the newscasters had realized it, too, and were trying to draw reasonable conclusions as to why this was happening. My own dad, who had somehow gotten a job on the New York Times, was even more concerned about the darkening days than Kris, if that was possible. _He _was spending more and more time looking sadly at the picture of Mom on the kitchen counter, and even praying.

That was how I knew something serious was going on - - Dad _never_ prayed.

And as the months slowly passed, all of these different, weird facts slowly accumulated, building up into something so big that I never saw it coming until it was almost too late. Even then, a part of me still wanted to pretend that everything was just fine; that my teacher was one of the average hater-types, that Kris's gun-carrying was normal, that Dad praying was normal, that the shortening days were normal... and most of all, that _I _was normal.

Then it all went to Hades when we took a class field trip to the Empire State Building, and the very world as I knew it was changed forever.

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><p><strong>A pretty epic ending for a chapter, if I do say so myself! I was really enjoying building up all that tension and then delivering that awesome final sentence. I felt pretty great. That's what I love about writing fiction - - you get to have as much fun as you want with the world you're writing about, because it's not real and you're pretty much its creator. As a little side note, I was playing the theme song of BBC's Sherlock in my head as I wrote the final few paragraphs. It made the whole thing even more epic.<strong>

**I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter of _Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness_, because I definitely did! If you like the story, why not follow and/or favorite it? It's a win-win situation - - I get more popular, you get an email whenever I post a new chapter. Of course, neither following nor favoriting this fanfiction are necessary actions to keep me writing, but I do highly appreciate them. And even more highly appreciated are reviews! Nice ones, preferably. You can even just leave a guest review if you're not signed in or if you don't have an account yet. Just a little suggestion. :) Thanks to everyone who has already done any of the above! You guys are great!**

**-TheRealEvanSG**


	4. Hot Dogs

**I gladly welcome you all back to the newest update of ****_Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness_****! The following chapter contains such miserable affairs as an annoyed Empire State Building desk-guy, Al's sarcasm, a fight to the death, and (worst of all) cauliflower. If you have successfully prepared yourself to be witness to these unfortunate things, then go on and read ahead. Okay, enough talking like Lemony Snicket, let's get on with the chapter already!**

**Chapter 4 start!**

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><p><span>Chapter 4: Hot Dogs<br>

I hadn't been on a class field trip in a long time.

I missed them - - just packing up a lunch, going to some random place on the bus, and missing school for the whole day because of it. Plus, if you were lucky and weren't seated with a jerk, you could even sleep on the bus.

I'd always had pretty good memories of them. For instance, once when I was in fifth grade, Oakwood High took us all to the Cleveland Zoo and the school bully accidentally fell into the tiger pit. The only reason I got to go on that recent museum trip at all was because I decided to be in this year's school play. (Come to think of it, I wasn't quite sure how they were going to continue that without me. Heh! Suckers.)

So despite all of the ever-growing weirdness going on, I was feeling pretty excited for the Empire State Building trip.

That is, until we were told Mrs. Jones would be the teacher escorting us.

"I mean, come on," I complained to Kris on one of our walks through Central Park, which we took often since there was nothing else to do. "She clearly hates kids worse than most people hate Justin Beiber! So why would Mrs. Jones be willing to lead the field trip?"

Kris looked greatly troubled by it... although his worry seemed to be deeper than just the fact that she was going.

He ended up just saying, "Mm."

"...Seriously, dude, you need to talk more."

"Maybe, Al." His voice was really deep, like a bassoon.

The day was slightly windy and although it was only about four o'clock, the Sun was already dipping low in the sky. It was like the Daylight Savings Times had decided to confuse everyone more and switched themselves. It was even making the days cooler, and I had to wear a jacket and sweatpants.

But there was nothing we could do about it. Whether we liked it or not, Mrs. Jones was chaperoning the trip.

The day of the trip rolled around, and almost as soon as we got to Lincoln Academy, we piled into the two buses that the school had provided for us. The seats were stiff like rocks, and we were put together in two to a seat. Unfortunately, it looked like I wasn't falling asleep any time soon. I saw with Kris, though, so it wasn't all bad.

Mrs. Jones plopped herself across the aisle from us and was the only person who didn't sit with someone else.

She watched Kris and I like a really mean dog the whole ride.

"Is it just me," I muttered just low enough that she wouldn't be able to hear, but loud enough that Kris would, "or is she acting particularly weird today?"

"How so?" mumbled Kris. He was staring out the window as skyscrapers inched by. We were caught in traffic.

I glanced nervously at the woman. "She's looking at us like, _How dare you even sit in my presence, you filthy students! I want to make you fail, but you're such morons you'll even fail at failing_!"

The blond furrowed his slightly bushy eyebrows. "What?"

"My point is, she looks especially evil right about now," I told him dryly.

"Oh."

She glowered at us all day, hardly letting us out of her sight. We didn't just tour the Empire State Building - - we also visited the 9/11 site before hand, and at one point I swore she was going to push us into the memorial's sparkling water. When we had lunch in a local pizza place, she didn't even look at her meat-loaded personal pan. Instead, her glare was fixed almost permanently on us two kids. It somehow made even pizza taste bad.

The entire day, my nerves were strung to the max. For reasons I couldn't quite explain, I was getting a nasty little premonition that everything was about to change. I felt like a rubber band stretched as far as possible. At one little mishap, my anxiety was going to snap.

The other kids seemed to be normal. They were actually paying attention to what we were seeing, unlike the Oakwood High class. They gave no signs of worry. I did, however, see Kris occasionally pat the guns in his pockets.

"You do realize they're probably going to arrest you the moment we enter the Empire State Building?" I pointed out.

He looked at me quizzically. "Why?"

I blinked. "Well, it's not like you're gonna get through security with those," I said.

"Why not?"

"...They're metal. There's probably gonna be metal detectors. They'll go off, security will pat you down, and you'll be going to the big house."

"Yes," agreed Kris thoughtfully. "I should go to the Big House."

I didn't know whether to laugh or pull out my cell phone. "What the _heck_ are you talking about?"

"Oh, not the police department big house. The Big House."

"You're about as clear as mud," I grumbled. Then the bus finally pulled up in front of the Empire State Building, and I was struck silent in awe.

The enormous skyscraper rose up majestically to the top of the New York City skyline. Its many windows trailed up the walls in perfectly spaced columns. We all stepped off the two buses, and I was able to get a better look at it. I had to crane my neck as far back as I could to see the top. The spire on top was like a cherry on an ice cream... Well, a really pointy cherry. It made my eyes hurt to try and see the top, so I looked back down.

Mrs. Jones made sure Kris and I were first in line, and she was right behind us.

"So, Kris," I said as we passed through its unmarred glass doors. "A physicist sees a young man about to jump off the Empire State Building."

"Yeah?" said Kris. His hands were in the pockets of an open gray hoodie he wore. Underneath the hoodie was a plain red shirt with the American Eagle logo on the chest.

I grinned. "Well, he yells, 'Don't do it! You have so much potential!'"

"Um, did he think his voice would actually carry to the top?"

'You... really didn't get the point of the joke, did you?"

Kris shook his head, clearly confused.

"Energy, Kris," I said, rolling my eyes to the heavens, "potential energy! When he's standing at the top of the building, he's not moving. So he's got a lot of potential energy."

The big guy raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Uh-huh..."

Stubbornness wasn't the only quality Kris possessed. He was also somewhat dense and simple.

We passed through security, shockingly without any trouble. The metal detectors didn't even give a single beep when Kris passed through. I had been sure he'd be screwed... Maybe his two pistols weren't made of metal. I was unable to see how they couldn't be, but it was just the only explanation.

The lobby of the Empire State Building was larger than I'd expected it to be, but just as grand. Its floors were mottled browns and dark yellows, and somewhat shiny. At the far end of the room was a mosaic of the tower itself. Why would they need a picture of the Empire State Building inside it? Were these guys just really conceited or something?

The moment Mrs. Jones entered, she slammed the doors shut. She snapped her fingers and after a second of delay, there was a loud _click_.

Kris and I wheeled around in confusion.

The other kids were trying to open the building's doors, but they were firmly shut.

The guy at the desk closed the huge book he'd been reading, which had had a wizard on the cover. He narrowed his eyes at Mrs. Jones. but didn't say anything. When his eyes passed over Kris, they flashed briefly in recognition, then returned to normal.

The history teacher stalked through security without looking back at the other students. She had a crazy glint in her eye, or at least an even crazier one than normal. She looked like she could commit murder. As she advanced on Kris and me, she rubbed her hands together as if we were interesting specimens she wanted to dissect in science.

"Did she just... lock the Empire State Building's doors?" I asked Kris nervously. "Why isn't the desk guy doing anything?"

Kris's hand inched to his pockets. He was frowning deeply at Mrs. Jones. His shoulders were as straight as a board and he had slid his foot back into a fighting stance. The blond was poised, ready to leap into action if there was a need to be.

"Kristopher Smith," said Mrs. Jones in a low voice that was almost a canine growl. Her icy glare shifted to me. "Alistair Shepherd. I've known Kris was a demigod since the beginning of the year, and I could have killed him at anytime. But I didn't know why he had come to Lincoln Academy. My contacts told me a second demigod was coming. So I waited."

"Contacts?" repeated Kris, his eyes narrowing. "...Gaea? The Titans?"

She barked out laughter. "No, foolish boy. Something far greater than even Gaea. Compared to them, the Titans are like ants."

I was completely lost. Gaea? Titans? What on Earth were they talking about?

Mrs. Jones glowered at me again, and I flinched. Her fingers flexed like she wanted to rip my throat apart. She said, "Anyway, then you came, _Alistair_, and I was at first confused. You smelled like a demigod, but not any kind I've known. I kept my eyes trained on you. For the past month and a half I've carefully calculated you." An insane grin turned up her lips, like a hawk about to catch its prey. "And I decided you were the second demigod. And you have the potential to be even more dangerous than that upstart Percy Jackson."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Would anyone care to explain what you guys are talking about?" I huffed in exasperation.

But Mrs. Jones didn't say anything. Instead, she opened her mouth wide and howled triumphantly.

Then, something even weirder than the Fountain Incident happened.

Mrs. Jones's nose elongated into a snout, and her nails became black and pointy like claws. Dark fur grew in curls on her skin. Her eyes turned yellow. Her ears became furry and animal-like.

"What..." I choked out.

Well, now I knew why Mrs. Jones liked raw-duck-and-sausage sandwiches.

Because where a human head should have been was a dog's, complete with deadly fangs, and hair covered the rest of her body.

I shook my head in shock. "What _is_ she?"

"Not human," grunted Kris, slipping his bronze-looking guns out of his pockets and cocking them. "She's a Kynokephaloi."

"A what now?"

"A dog-headed human."

"Oh." I took a step back and edged behind the big guy. "Well, you could've said so."

The desk guy took something from the counter and ran to the elevators.

Mrs. Jones barked angrily at Kris's pistols. "Celestial bronze," she growled. "No matter! I'll rip your esophagus out of your throat and feast on your entrails!"

"I like my esophagus in my throat," I told Kris.

He nodded stiffly. "Understood." As the kynokepha-something charged at us, he fired multiple rounds into the monster's body. She howled in pain and stumbled backwards. Steaming bullet holes opened up in her shoulders and legs, but none of them were kill shots.

"It didn't work?" he grunted.

I blinked. "What do you mean...?" But I had barely finished the sentence before the dog-headed Mrs. Jones shook her hairy head once, then charged at us again. As we watched, the bullet holes closed up and disappeared completely. Kris grabbed my arm and ran to our left.

"Behind the counter!" he cried.

We vaulted over the check-in desk and landed safely behind it, or at least Kris did. I sort of rolled painfully across it.

"Ouch," I said with a curse as I thudded to the floor. "Can you please explain what's going on!?"

Kris was already crouched behind the wooden desk, pulling more bullets out of his pockets and putting them into his guns. "The Greek myths are real," he told me. Then, more to himself, he muttered, "Maybe if Celestial bronze bullets didn't work, Imperial gold ones will...?"

"Say what?"

"The Greek myths are real," he repeated, as if it was obvious. "I'm a son of Apollo. A demigod."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said haltingly, but Mrs. Jones came crashing around the desk before I could continue.

Kris quickly trained his twin pistols on her and unloaded the rounds into her. At least twelve bullets hit her nearly head-on. And two of them definitely pierced through her heart. She howled and fell backwards, but after a few seconds, she shook and started to get up again.

"What!?" grunted Kris. "Okay, run!"

A monstrous, dog-headed, bullet-impervious teacher who wanted to feast on my entrails was on my heels - - I didn't need to be told twice. I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my hip where I hit it on the desk, and scampered across the shiny floor of the Empire State Building's lobby.

"What's a demigod?" I asked as we ran away from her.

Kris loaded more bullets into his pistols. "Maybe a Celestial bronze and Imperial gold mix will work..." he muttered to himself, then looked at me seriously. "Now's really not the time, but... demigods are the children of Greek gods who slept with humans."

It must've been the longest sentence he'd ever said.

I looked over my shoulder. Mrs. Jones was right behind us. She was again completely free of bullet holes, and her mouth was foaming in her rage. In another few seconds, she would catch up to us.

"Kris!" I shouted, my eyes widening in terror.

The blond turned sharply and fired a spray of bullets from his guns. As the shots echoed around the building, the bullets slammed into our bloodthirsty dog-headed history teacher. And finally, it seemed to work. She yelped in pain like a dog whose tail had been stepped on. Her eyes expanded in surprise. Her charge was halted, and she teetered in place.

"No... way..." she hissed, clutching a wound on her chest. "I'm dying...?"

Kris gave a curt nod of his head and slipped his guns into his pockets.

As the light faded from her eyes, she barked furiously and snapped, "Schist! Hear this, demigods! You are not safe yet! Until you fade from the world, you will be pursued by Laelaps! He will kill you without fail! This is my curse!" And then, with a roar of agony, she exploded like a _piñata_, and yellow dust exploded everywhere.

"Ew," I said, taking a disgusted step back.

Kris's face was pale. "Laelaps...?" he said.

"Who's that?" I asked him, trying to ignore Mrs. Jones's death dust.

"An immortal dog," Kris told me with a deathly pallor. "It is destined to always catch its prey. Come with me, Al. I know a safe place.

I wanted to argue with him. I was so confused; I had no idea what was going on. What did he mean by 'the Greek myths are real,' and why had Mrs. Jones turned into a bloodthirsty monster? My head was swimming.

But somehow I didn't doubt him. A voice in the back of my mind agreed with him - - all of this was real, and that I was a demigod.

As Kris dashed toward the doors, I followed closely behind. They were still locked shut, of course, and we had to run through the fallen dust of Mrs. Jones. The other kids who had come on the trip were all pressed against the doors, staring into the lobby with terrified eyes. They were all frozen. I couldn't blame them. I was still trying to process what had just happened myself.

"Back up!" shouted Kris.

I wasn't sure how they heard him through the doors, but they all moved back as one.

Kris pulled out his guns again and let loose several shots onto the glass doors. They shattered and we burst through them. The kids parted away from us in terror, and we tore off into the streets of New York City.

And as we emerged on the streets, we could both hear the nearby baying of a dog.

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><p><strong>There we go! The fourth chapter is finally finished! I've been plotting out ideas for this fanfic lately, and researching myths and monsters. I'll try to use monsters that the original characters have not fought yet, although there will probably be some old ones still. For those of you who don't know, the<strong> kynokephaloi **are a tribe of dog-headed people who were apparently native to (I believe) Africa and India. ****And in the original myth, **Laelaps **was a dog destined to always catch its prey. Some dude had it hunt down the Teumessian fox, a fox destined to never be caught. These two fates contradicted each other, so Zeus lazily turned them both to stone and then made them the constellations Canis Major and Canis Minor.**

**As always, if you haven't followed or faved my story already, I really appreciate it your doing so... but it is not necessary! I will still post more chapters even if I don't get many fans. The one thing I especially like, though, is reviews. I can never get enough of 'em! After all, they let me know exactly what my fans like about my story. So again, none of these actions are necessary to keep me writing, but all are highly appreciated.**

**-TheRealEvanSG**


	5. Running Laps

**Hello again, everyone! I hope you're all enjoying my fanfiction, because I've got great news for you - - the fifth chapter is arriving at last! Here I'll be switching points of view from Alistair to Kris. It's pretty much the same thing as the Heroes of Olympus, where the POVs swap between the main characters. Each of the three main characters will get their own four chapters alternatively. Unfortunately, although he WILL be playing a big part in the story later on, Leo will not be included in this.**

**I do not own PJO or the Heroes of Olympus series! Duh! That's why this is a ****_fan_****fiction.**

**Chapter 5 begin!**

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><p><span>Chapter 5: Running Laps<br>

**Kris**

I was never one to believe in omens, good or otherwise, but a monster cursing you to be eternally hunted by another monster could _not_ be a good thing.

Especially when the monster hunting you was Laelaps, a dog destined to always catch its prey.

Being a demigod, I'd heard the myth before. Back in ancient Greece, there used to be a dog called Laelaps and a fox called the Teumessian fox. Laelaps's destiny I've already explained, and the Teumessian fox was destined to never be caught. Some woman named Procris got Laelaps as a gift from Zeus. Her husband decided to use the dog to hunt the Teumessian fox. Zeus, being lazy in all things except hunkering down with mortals, solved the contradiction of destinies by turning both dog and fox to stone and then setting them in the sky as the constellations Canis Major and Canis Minor.

"What the heck is going on!?" cried Alistair, my new friend, as we raced down 5th Avenue.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't help but feel sort of bad for him. His brown eyes were wide with fright and uncertainty, he had a limp in his leg from where he'd hit the Empire State Building concierge desk badly, and his chocolate brown hair had a cowlick on the side. He was trailing behind me a little.

Even though I'd only known him for a few months, I could tell that Al wasn't much of an exercise person - - not that he wasn't in good shape. He was naturally slender and fit enough. He just wasn't exactly one for running or sports.

"I told you before," I said hurriedly. I wanted to get all the explanations over with as quickly as possible. The less air we used for talking, the more we had to run from Laelaps, and although it wasn't pursuing us yet, I was sure it wouldn't be long before we heard it baying. "The Greek gods and monsters are all real. They live in America - - here in New York City, actually. You and I are demigods - - children of gods and mortals."

Al panted with the exert of running. "They're _real_? But I thought... they were just myths!"

Thunder rolled furiously across the sky. "Don't say they're myths again," I advised.

"So where are we... going?"

"A camp I know."

"You think a camp is a 'safe place?'" He said it like I'd suggested we hide in the middle of an open tundra.

I nodded curtly. "It's the safest place on Earth for kids like us. Well, one of them, anyway."

"Yeah, about as safe as hiding under the bed," Alistair mumbled. "Killers _always_ check under the bed. Why can't we go to one of our places? Can we at least stop by my apartment so I can tell my dad I won't be home for supper?"

Somewhere behind us, the howl of a dog on the hunt echoed down the street.

I said, "No time. Run faster... unless you want a rabid monster dog to eat you alive."

That must've been the right thing to say, because Al suddenly pulled ahead of me, his legs pumping like pistons. His chest was already heaving and sweat was glistening on his forehead. The strings of his jacket flopped around wildly.

We tore past tall stone and metal buildings and over cross-roads. We careened around several unfortunate passersby, occasionally leaping over several random objects that were in our way. I also took a few seconds to overturn several trash cans behind our path. I wasn't sure how close Laelaps was to us yet - - although its barks and growls were increasing in volume, I still couldn't see it - - and I wanted to keep it as far back as possible.

It was probably useless, though. I mean, it was destined to _always catch its prey_. No matter what.

"Your face is the same color my grandma's hair was before she died," gasped Al, holding a stitch in his side.

I frowned. "Listen to those barks. That's probably Laelaps - - and they're getting closer. That's not good. We won't be able to outrun it on foot."

"What do we do?"

"We need... a bike or something. Maybe a cab if we can get one. You got any money?"

Al dug through his jeans pockets and cursed. "Nope. I'm broke."

My eyes fell on a bike rack that stood next to a brown brick building. Several bikes had been locked to it, but with my special demigod guns, I could fix that quick enough. "There," I said, pointing to the rack. "We'll take two of those bikes."

Al frowned. "Isn't that illegal?" he asked.

"We don't really have time to worry about that right now," I pointed out.

"Fair enough."

I slipped my guns out of my pockets, loaded some more bullets into their barrels, and fired two well-placed shots at a couple of the locks. The crack of the gunshots didn't bother the mortals. Being made of a mixture of Celestial bronze and Imperial gold, Mist hid my twin pistols from sight. The combination of magical metals also provided more stability and greater penetrating power than a normal gun.

The locks popped open with a snap.

Al stared with wide eyes. "Did you just shoot those locks open?"

"Yes," I replied, allowing myself a small smirk. "I'm a son of Apollo - - I specialize in missile weapons like bows, guns, and basketballs."

"Basketballs?"

We charged over to the bike rack and rolled the unlocked bikes out onto the street. Al still looked unsure about stealing them, but I hopped on mine and took off. He hesitated a little but was soon right behind me.

"So, Lebron," said Al as we put the pedal to the metal, "if you're the son of some old Greek god, where do you live?"

I swerved around a fat lady in an ancient pink dress, walking her pet cat. "The camp."

"You mean the one you were talking about earlier?" he asked.

My brown-haired friend was much better at biking than he had been at running. Despite my longer and tougher legs, he was managing to keep right with me.

"Mm-hm. It's called Camp Half-Blood."

Al looked like he wanted to say something else, but just then several pedestrians gave cries of alarm. Cars crashed into each other like dominoes behind us, and we both heard low barks like fog horns dangerously close to us. The street seemed to grow darker than normal, even for the weird, shortening spring days.

Al and I exchanged worried glances.

I grumbled, "That is really not good."

"Is it just me, or did the shadows get longer and... more shadowy?" said Al, eying several shadows on the street worriedly. "Is that a good thing?"

I shrugged. It might've been, but I didn't want to get my hopes up.

We biked down the street as fast as we could and turned sharply onto Terrace Drive, heading into Central Park. Music from some new indie group drifted from the park stage. People slurping ice cream cones and college students doing homework glanced at us curiously. Someone's dog cut across our path, almost making us crash.

As we fled from the unseen Laelaps, I reflected on my life before attending Lincoln Academy. I had known I was a demigod almost since birth. My mom was a clear-sighted mortal, and Dad told her he was a god right away. It was hard for her when he left, she always used to say, but being a god, he had duties more important than keeping a mortal family. I was sent to Camp Half-Blood when I was thirteen - - just after the Second Titan War. I'd met all of the Seven and even fought in the Second Giant War. It had looked like we could finally start to have some peace. I was even getting close to a good friend of mine, Helen.

Lately, though, things had been kind of rough in the immortal world. According to Chiron, the last winter solstice meeting was unusually tense. Due to Leo Valdez's disappearance, the Curse of Cabin 9 had come back even stronger than ever (although luckily, Nyssa was able to complete my special-order twin pistols for me). Then Dad stopped answering my prayers. Worried, I had decided to go to school in the city, half-hoping that if I did, I would be able to hear him.

And I didn't like the strange, shorter days at all.

(Also, despite the fact that Al probably thought I didn't talk much, I usually do speak up more. I was just worried about Dad.)

I was ripped out of my thoughts by the nearby baying of a hound on the hunt. The shadows were even more unusually darker and longer here in Central Park than they'd been on 5th Avenue.

I hadn't expected us to be able to beat Laelaps to Camp Half-Blood even with the bikes, but hope was now sparking in my chest. The shadows... could it be him? He had no reason to be here in New York City, since he'd gone to school in New Rome after the Second Giant War... but maybe...

The barking grew even louder, and the screams of pedestrians were closer to us now.

"Hey, Nico!" I called. "If you're there, I kind of need your help!"

One of the street lamp's shadows expanded quite suddenly, and out of it popped a familiar (to me) boy with jet-black hair, dark eyes, and a naturally pale face. His lips had almost no color to them and his black aviator jacket made his pallor stand out even more. The boy wore a skull ring on one finger, and a sword hung on his hip in an ornate black sheathe.

This was Nico di Angelo, who was a friend of mine even though I'd only met him a couple of times.

He frowned at me dangerously. "This had better be good, Kris. I was on important business here."

"Trust me, it is," I said.

Just before we passed him, I squeezed the brakes of my bike firmly. It nearly made me wipe out, but I managed to balance the bike. Alistair wasn't so lucky. He tried to do the same thing as me, but ended up flying over the top of his bike, which went spinning away into a random trash can.

"Who's that?" asked the son of Hades.

"A new demigod." I helped Al get up - - his tumble had left him dazed and half-conscious. Part of his jeans were scraped up and bloody.

He managed to say weakly, "Name's Al. Alistair Shepherd. Hi."

Nico winced. "That doesn't look very comfortable," he said, noticing Al's new injuries. He turned to me. "So what's the deal? Monster chasing you guys?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "We killed the first one, but she cursed us to be pursued eternally by Laelaps."

"_Laelaps_?" he choked, his eyes widening. "Schist! Then I need to shadow-travel you guys to camp immediately! Although technically I'm not supposed to _be_ shadow-traveling anymore... But wait, wasn't that dog turned to stone and made into a constellation?"

Al, who had been dizzily stumbling around while Nico and I talked, wandered blindly into Nico's street light.

"Well... I guess he's not stoned anymore," I said.

Nico cracked a smile at that, but it quickly faded as his eyes locked onto something over my shoulder. "It's almost here," he said. "Quick, grab my hands."

"No homo," I told him lightly.

He sent me a withering glare. "Watch it, Smith. I won't save you if you make fun of my sexuality."

"Alright, alright."

I stepped over my wrecked bike and grabbed Al's arm with my left hand, then grabbed Nico's hand with my right. Shadows crept up around us and a deathly cold sensation washed over me, making my shackles stand on end.

I risked a glance over my shoulder. A huge Great Dane, at least seven feet tall with the lean, toned body of a hunter, was ripping a path through the crowds, heading straight for us. It was slobbering like we were squirrels, and wherever its spit hit the sidewalk, the cement burned away like it was acid. Laelaps's tongue was lolling out as if it were hanging its head out of a moving car. Its jaws were so strong that it could no doubt snap us in half in one bite. Its claws were even sharper than our crazy dog-headed teacher Mrs. Jones's had been, and the sidewalk cracked wherever its paws landed.

In just a minutes, it would be upon us.

Laelaps paused momentarily and shifted its weight onto its hind legs - - it was going to pounce.

"Nico!" I snapped. "What are you waiting for!?"

Then the shadows wrapped around our whole bodies, and we were pulled into them with a firm tug.

And Laelaps's enormous body fell on the spot of street we'd occupied just moments before.

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><p>How to describe shadow-traveling? It was like I was being pulled and stretched at once, and I'd paid a visit to the Ice King, all at the same time.<p>

We were expelled from the dark shadows with an ear-shattering pop. For a few seconds, I was completely disoriented. My head was as fuzzy as if it was filled with mist, and there was a ringing in my ears that shook my brain like a maraca. I staggered on the soft grass aimlessly and almost toppled over before Nico caught my arm.

"You alright?" he asked. "Shadow-traveling has different affects on people."

I shook my head and waited for the world to stop spinning. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"How'd you get Laelaps to hunt you down?"

"We were attacked by a Kynokephaloi in the Empire State Building, and as she was dying, she cursed him to pursue us eternally," I explained.

Nico frowned. "I didn't know normal monsters could curse."

"Nobody told that to Mrs. Jones."

Once I could actually tell which way was up and which way was down, I looked around and took in our surroundings. We were on the top of the hill just before Half-Blood Hill. Lush grass and random flowers rolled down the crest of our hill. Thalia's tree stood proudly on the one in front of us, its many branches hanging out over the hillside like arms whose hands had knobbly fingers. Although there had been clear skies in the city, dark storm clouds were gathering around the outside of the camp's magical borders.

I was almost home.

"I thought we were going straight to Camp Half-Blood?" I asked.

"My shadow-traveling still isn't always accurate," Nico said with a shrug. Now that I could see again, I realized he was almost as weak as I was, and he was even paler than usual. "Will says I shouldn't use it at all, lest I become a ghost myself, but today was... a special case. We're just lucky I didn't accidentally drop us in Long Island Sound, or even into the ocean."

I hoped he was joking, but from the way he frowned at Thalia's tree, I got the feeling he wasn't.

I glanced at Al, who looked even worse than before we'd shadow-traveled. He was staggering around like a drunkard and seemed to be barely conscious. He kept muttering weird references to video games that I didn't get. His whole body was limp and his arms, legs, and clothes were all stained with blood. The maroon red liquid dribbled out of his mouth - - he must've accidentally bitten his tongue.

I slapped him across the face - - a bit violent, but it always worked in the books. "Snap out of it, Al!" I hissed.

He blinked. "Huh? Wha... Whe' ah we?" From the way he talked, he'd definitely bit his tongue.

"We're almost at the camp I was telling you about," I told him. "Can you walk?"

"I... think tho."

I pointed at Half-Blood Hill. "We need to get over there, and carrying you will be too much of a burden. I'm not sure how fast Laelaps will be able to catch up to us. If you can walk, walk."

Although Alistair was now conscious, but very shaky on his feet, we started down the hill. My heart had been pounding since Laelaps started chasing us, but now that we were away from the city it was calming down a bit. I steadied my breathing. The effects of shadow-travel had faded away by the time we reached the foot of Half-Blood Hill, but the dark clouds had opened up, releasing a shower of rain upon us.

And just when I thought we were safe, I got the creepy feeling like something was watching us. I looked over my shoulder, and standing there at the top of the hill we had just walked down was none other than Laelaps, its mouth wide open in an unheard snarl.

"Seriously?" I complained, glaring at the sky.

Nico glanced back, too, and his eyes widened. "_What_? How fast _is_ that thing?"

"Run," I said, and took off, grabbing Al's arm and dragging him along with me.

But Nico was too weak. Although he tried to jog, he was lagging behind. Try as he might, he just couldn't catch up to us. Laelaps, meanwhile, took only about five huge leaps to climb down the hill.

Thalia's tree was about six hundred feet away - - but even if we crossed Camp Half-Blood's borders, would the protective magic be strong enough to keep the stupid dog out? My hand strayed to my pocket and I patted my guns. I had a feeling that trying to kill Laelaps was useless. After all, the hound was destined to always catch its prey. A little thing like death probably wouldn't bother it that much. And besides, the storm would compromise my aim.

Al, noticing my nervousness, glanced back, too. The sight of Laelaps nearly made him trip over his own two feet.

I assumed he tried to say, "It's a Great Dane?" but it came out as a bunch of gibberish, and he spit a wad of blood on the grass.

"Nico!" I shouted. With my deep voice, I probably sounded a lot less concerned than I actually was.

Nico looked back and cursed in Ancient Greek. I think he said, "_Hercules' sweaty underpants!_" Then he tried to run faster, but his legs gave out and he fell onto the rain-soaked grass.

Laelaps noticed this, crouched, and pounced right on him. When the enormous dog landed on his back, Nico let out a howl of pain. He squirmed furiously, but with all that muscle, Laelaps must've weighed about 300 pounds. The son of Hades wasn't going anywhere.

"Tha' kid's abou'tha..." Al choked, his eyes wide. Then a look of intense rage flashed across his eyes, and he let out a furious battle cry. While I watched in confusion, he held up his hands, and... maybe it was my imagination, but the rain seemed to be merging behind him into a wall of water.

I never quite remembered what happened next, but I seemed to recall Alistair flinging his hands out, and then a wave of blue flooding down the hillside. Laelaps howled, and the next thing I knew, Nico was standing up - - sopping wet, looking like he had just seen a ghost, and bending over like his back was killing him, but otherwise he was alright.

The hillside was a mud-filled pool.

Al's eyes rolled back in his head, and he finally passed out.

Laelaps was nowhere to be seen.

"What..." I shook my head in wonder. Raindrops were flung off my matted-down hair. I looked at Nico, who limped up Half-Blood Hill to me painfully. "What the Hades just happened?"

"Nothing good," he said. He was staring at Al like he was the Devil's child. "Nothing good."

"What? But - - didn't Al just save your life? Somehow?"

Nico frowned. "Yeah, and it's how he did it that's worrying," he said cryptically.

I recalled what I thought I saw - - the rain merging into a wall of water that rose up behind Al, and then a wave of blue washing down the hillside. Because my ADHD had kicked in at that moment, I hadn't quite been able to tell what exactly had happened, but I got the feeling Nico was right. Whatever Al had done, it was a sure sign that the world was about to go to Hades. For the third time in as three years.

"Well," I said, pushing aside my bad feelings, "Al isn't going to walk himself up Half-Blood Hill."

Nico wiped rain off his brow and mud off his aviator's jacket, nodding solemnly.

Together, we went to where Al had fallen unconscious and picked him up. Then we climbed the final few hundred feet to Thalia's tree, almost dreading Al's claiming.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the short wait! Actually, I usually take a longer time to update my stories than I have been for this one. I guess it's just because the Percy Jackson world is so fun to write about! I was listening to They Might Be Giants' album <strong>John Henry**, too - - which is totally awesome, BTW - - so that might've helped my inspiration. I'm definitely gonna buy it the next time I get an iTunes gift card.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter of _Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness_! I wasn't exactly sure how the Laelaps chase turned out, but hopefully it was intense enough for you guys! If you've liked this story so far, I'd appreciate it if you follow, favorite, or leave a review on my fanfic! None of these actions are required for me to keep posting chapters, but they just make me feel good. I especially appreciate reviews, since they allow me to know exactly what you guys liked about the chapter, what you feel I could've done better, etc.  
><strong>

**Any other They Might Be Giants fans out there? Remember, it's Istanbul, not Constantinople.**

**-TheRealEvanSG**


	6. The Boy Who Shouldn't Be Here

**Hola, mis amigos! I hope you're ready for this next installment of ****_Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness_****, because I know I am! I've gotten some really good feedback from you guys. Thanks for all your kind words. It makes me glad to know you guys like my writing so much! And this should be pretty obvious by now, but I don't own either the PJO or HoO series.**

**Chapter 6 start!**

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><p><span>Chapter 6: The Boy Who Shouldn't be Here<br>

**Kris**

Carrying Al up a hill was like lugging a wrecking ball to the top of Mount Everest. Although my newest friend was nowhere near overweight, he was so heavy even _I_ was sweating, and Al often claimed I was Bigfoot's cousin.

After ten tiresome minutes, we finally crossed the Camp's border. And immediately, Al made our progress even more difficult by suddenly writhing in our grasp. He seemed to still be unconscious. Even so, his arms and legs flailed like he was an Athena kid who'd been dropped in a dry pool filled with spiders.

"Whoa," I said, almost dropping my brown-haired friend.

Nico grunted and scowled. "What's with him?"

"No idea. Maybe a demigod dream?"

Frowning, we readjusted our grip on Al and continued lugging him down into the valley of Camp Half-Blood.

Everything was perfectly normal in the camp - - as normal as a demigod sanctuary could be. The cluster of odd-looking cabins stood in the center of the valley. Although it was storming all around us, the camp's magical borders kept the unwanted rainstorm from invading.

My brothers and sisters from the Apollo cabin were in the middle of a tense basketball game with the Roman fauns. The Hephaestus kids were attempting to erect shrines for the gods on the beach. The succulent smell of roasted barbeque wafted from the mess hall's kitchen - - it was almost noon. Out on Long Island Sound, the Ares cabin was having a warship battle with the children of Nike.

I took a deep breath. The familiar scent of Camp Half-Blood (sweaty demigod, good food, and ripe strawberries) rose up to meet me.

I was finally home after many long months.

Al suddenly squirmed in my grip again, and his left foot kicked itself free and connected with my chest. Hard.

"Oof!" Not expecting the accidental attack, the air was knocked out of my lungs. "Al can really pack a punch... er, kick."

Nico looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes. "Let's just get him to the infirmary."

I nodded, and we turned to head to the Big House. It was huge, sky blue and boarded, and to enemies it was probably very menacing. But to us demigods, especially Greek demigods, it was a symbol of home and safety. Although several of its windows were broken and its bright walls were choked with grape vines, a warm feeling settled in my chest just from the sight of it.

We made our way down Half-Blood Hill and stepped onto the Big House's porch. Sitting on the creaky chair swing was Will Solace, one of my brothers and the camp's best healer. Some campers even jokingly called him Dr. Sunshine.

He stood up quickly upon noticing us, grinning. "Hey! Nico! Kris! You're back!"

I smiled and would've pumped his fist, but I kind of had my hands full. "Hey, man," I said warmly.

"Oh... uh, hi, Will," said Nico, almost talking over me. I turned, and he looked awkward, his hand momentarily letting go of Al's shoulder to stray to his aviator jacket's pocket. I hadn't noticed it before, but something was clearly in it, as there was a small bulge.

Will seemed oblivious to Nico's sudden awkwardness. "How's it going?" he asked, and then he frowned when he realized we were carrying an unconscious person. "Who's that?"

"He's my friend, Alistair Shepherd," I said, and quickly explained everything - - how Mrs. Jones had turned into a Kynokephaloi in the Empire State Building, attacked us, and cursed us to be chased eternally by Laelaps before dying.

The older blond frowned, absently wrapping and unwrapping an Ace bandage around his wrist. "That's not good. I'm not sure how long you'll be safe here. Laelaps is destined to eternally catch his prey, after all... and I'm sure the camp's borders won't hold him back forever."

"The important thing right now is to make sure Al's alright," said Nico.

Will nodded. "Yes. Good point, Nico." Unless it was just me, Nico's pale face seemed to gain a pink tinge. My brother got up from the chair swing. "Here, I'll walk with you guys to the infirmary and check up on him."

Will was fairly handsome and popular with the ladies, although he'd never actually had a girlfriend in his life. With his strong surfer's body and athletic build, he could've been mistaken for a son of Poseidon. His hair was as yellow as a Hawaiian sunrise, and he had a kind face that girls couldn't help but fall for. Most Apollo kids were viewed as pretty attractive among the other campers, but Will was by far the crowd favorite.

"You haven't done any Underworld-y stuff lately, have you?" asked Will as we entered the Big House.

Nico gave me a look like, _Say anything and I'll reserve a nice spot in the Fields of Punishment for you_. "No, of course not."

We took a few turns down some halls, lugging Al the whole way. Finally we reached the infirmary, and Will eased the door open for us. As we entered, Argus turned his many different eyes on us.

For a moment, Argus seemed happy to see us. Then his eyes fell on Al, and they narrowed in something like a glare.

"Hello, Argus," said Will with a smile. "We have an injured newbie here. Could you take watch so any unruly Ares guys don't come bursting in here?"

Although it appeared that he didn't like it, the many-eyed man nodded and stepped outside the door.

Will immediately set to work. Nico and I lay Al down on one of the cots carefully. Several other campers, mostly Hephaestus kids whose inventions had went awry, were curled up on the others, groaning and covered in cuts. Will ignored them for now and rummaged through a cabinet before pulling out ambrosia squares and a bottle of nectar-to-go.

"The first thing we need to do is figure out what's wrong with him," reasoned Will.

As we watched, my older brother lay his hands on Al's forehead and closed his eyes in concentration. Nico shifted in what might have been jealousy.

After a few moments, Will nodded and straightened his back.

"You know what happened?" I asked.

He smiled. "Yeah, I think so. From what I could tell, it's just over-exhaustion that's bothering him. His elbow is sort of injured, and his knee seems to be, too, but they're minor. After a day's rest and some nectar, I think your friend should be fine, Kris."

My muscles relaxed. "Oh, good." When Al collapsed on Half-Blood Hill, I'd been more worried than I'd let on.

The door groaned open, and we all turned to see Chiron enter, his majestic stallion lower half clopping along the wooden floor. Next to him was another familiar demigod - - a girl with red hair tied in adorable twin pigtails.

"Argus said something about a mysterious new demigod," said Chiron.

The cute girl next to him grinned. "Yeah! And I heard you were back, Kris! Long time, no see."

I shifted, suddenly as awkward as Nico. "Uh, yeah. Hi, Helen. What's... what's up?"

This was Helen Weber, one of my friends and a fairly new demigod. She hadn't come to Camp Half-Blood until a few weeks after the Second Giant War. She was the daughter of Nike and lived somewhere in Florida. Apparently a rogue Cyclops had attacked her on Bonita Beach, although a local satyr had rescued her at the last second and brought her up here to Long Island Sound.

"Oh, nothing much," said Helen with a shrug and a smirk. "We were just kicking the schist out of Cabin 5. They may be good on land, but they kinda suck on the sea."

Helen was a good friend, and she had fairly good looks, too. She was lithe, her constant smile being the widest part of her. Although her eyes were a pale blue, they seemed to drag me in as if they had their own gravity. The only thing about Helen that made me cringe were her arms. They were riddled with nasty scars and burns, most of which she'd won as a consolation prize from a bad day on the rock wall.

We bumped fists, and Chiron cleared his throat.

"Who's our new friend?" the horse dude asked.

Nico pointed to Al's cot. "Right here, sir. His name's Alistair Shepherd. I helped Kris bring him here."

Like before with Argus, Chiron seemed normal enough... until his gaze locked on Al. Then he flinched, and he frowned deeply. The temperature of the infirmary dropped at least twenty degrees in one second. The horse guy made the ancient warding-off-evil gesture: a clawed hand over his heart, and a sort of shoving motion towards Al.

My friend shuddered violently again, almost toppling off the bed.

_"He shouldn't be here,"_ he cursed in Ancient Greek. _"This world is not his home."_

Nico and I exchanged glances. "What do you mean, sir?" we asked in tandem. Will and Helen looked just as confused as we did.

"Yeah, I mean, he's a demigod, right?" Helen pointed out, tilting her head. "That means he belongs here at Camp Half-Blood just as much as any of us."

Chiron shook his head, and the strange moment passed. The room returned to normal temperature.

"You are right, of course, Helen," the centaur agreed. He still looked deathly serious, but he smiled weakly. "This is as much Al's home as it is our own. The day's claiming will be at tonight's campfire, will it not?"

Will nodded. "Yes. It should be. Why?"

"Nothing."

The centaur turned and clopped out of the room, muttering something I couldn't catch under his breath.

Helen blinked. "Well... that happened," she muttered. Then she turned her attention to me. "Anyway, Kris, why'd you leave? You didn't even tell me where you were going."

"Uh, sorry," I said in a bit of a daze. Chiron's apparent dislike of Al had sent an unexpected shiver down my spine, one that had nothing to do with the cool air in the infirmary.

I was beginning to get a strange feeling that I couldn't quite describe. It was the sort of feeling I'd heard Al talk about getting when he played Slender. It was akin to an edge-of-your-seat, cold sensation that left me almost paranoid, except I wasn't quite sure what I was paranoid of.

My gaze fell on Al, who had mysteriously gotten paler since Chiron's arrival. His skin was also dotted with more goosebumps than if he'd just been dipped in the Arctic Ocean. My frown deepened. With Will watching curiously, I lightly touched his forehead, then hissed.

"He feels like ice!" I exclaimed.

Will's eyebrow arched in surprise, and he followed my example. "Whoa!" my brother said. "You're right! Who tagged him for the Ice Bucket Challenge?"

"Shadow-traveling sometimes makes people cold," offered Nico.

But the counselor of Cabin 5 shook his head. "No, not like this. It's almost like..." A strange look crossed Will's face, one that I'd never seen him wear before - - almost scared. I almost didn't register it, because it was just such a foreign emotion for him to have. "No, sorry, forget it. It can't be."

"Well, is he still alright?" asked Helen with a somewhat-worried-but-mostly-confused tilt of her head.

"He... should be, but..." Will frowned deeply and placed his hands on Al's forehead again, wincing. "I'm afraid just a day in the infirmary might not be enough now. Whatever just happened, it wasn't good for Al."

I remembered the way he'd thrashed when Nico and I first carried him into camp. I dwelled once more on Father not speaking to me, the days shortening despite it being spring, Chiron's gesture, the wall of water that I'd thought I'd seen behind Alistair, and Laelaps.

I didn't believe in omens, but being a son of the prophecy god, I could usually trust my instincts.

And right now, my instincts were telling me that something was happening - - something big, and definitely not good.

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><p><strong>If you thought you never had to read a cliffhanger again after finishing the HoO series, ha! Too bad. You shouldn't have clicked on this fanfic. There's gonna be a dam lot of cliffhangers.<br>**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter of _Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness_! You've probably figured it out by now, but if you haven't and want to continue reading, click that follow button. Following will allow you to get an email whenever I post a new chapter of the story. Favoriting my fanfic and also reviewing are both appreciated as well - - the latter being even more welcome than the former. The thing I love so much about reviews is that it lets me know what you think about my story! What parts do you love? What parts don't you like so much? How do you feel about my characters?**

**Notice: **(Don't worry. Helen isn't a Mary Sue. I know it may seem like it from Kris's description, but she's barely gotten any screen time. Give her a chance and she'll develop much more.)

**-TheRealEvanSG**


	7. I Receive an Unwanted Vision

**And here we are, once again! I'm really churning out these chapters lately. I guess I just have a lot of motivation for this fanfic. I'm super excited to finally be successfully writing a story for the PJO community - - I've tried a couple different fics before, but this is the first PJO one I've actually stuck with. I do, of course, have several other fanfictions for the One Piece, Fairy Tail, Soul Eater, and even Gravity Falls fandoms, but that's a different story.**

**Literally.**

**Chapter 7 start!**

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><p><span>Chapter 7: I Receive an Unwanted Vision<br>

**Kris**

With Alistair apparently out of commission for the time being, none of us were very sure what to do.

"You still haven't answered my question," prodded Helen, looking at me pointedly. "Why didn't you tell me before you left the camp? I missed you!"

I blinked and looked at Will. "I, uh... I'll tell you later, Helen. Right now I'd like to ask my brother a question of my own. Will?"

"Yes?" said Dr. Sunshine, who was still frowning at the unconscious and pale Al.

"I haven't heard from Dad since last... October, I think. And these shortening days have made me get a bad feeling. Has Apollo spoken to you all, or have you gotten any dreams from him?"

"No," said Will, and now his frown was fixed on me. The look on his face was hard to discern - - was he worried, puzzled, upset, scared? Maybe a mixture of all four. "That _is_ strange. I thought he was just angry at me for cursing the Ares campers to speak in lymerics again."

"So... what's up with that?" Nico spoke up. I'd almost forgotten he was with us.

Will shook his head. "I'm not sure, Shadow Miser." The emo-looking boy furrowed his brow at the nickname, but my brother continued before he could say anything. "But I'd suggest you, Kris, go visit Rachel. I know she hasn't spoken any prophecies since the Oracle of Delphi was captured and remains so - - however, she's been working on putting together the Syballine Books with Ella and Annabeth. I think they're almost finished."

"And they might have found something about Dad?" I finished.

"Exactly."

"Lost fathers, aside," said Nico, almost staring at Will, his hand patting his bulged pocket as if for reassurance that something was there, "can I talk to you? Like, alone?"

"Yeah, sure," the blond agreed.

Taking the cue, Helen and I exited the infirmary.

"What have you been up to while I was in the city?" I asked the daughter of Nike while we headed for the Big House's doors.

Helen shrugged. "You know, failing at the rock wall, annoying the Ares campers, going pranking with the Stolls. Being a year-rounder gets dull." She looked at me. "Especially when your best friend leaves without any notice."

I winced. "You're not gonna let that one slide, are you?" I said tiredly.

"Nope."

I silently cursed Nike's children and their unusually long grudges, then sighed and explained my reasons for staying in New York. Helen listened carefully and thoughtfully. Her muted blue eyes connected with mine, and I felt my cheeks heat up a little. I turned away before she could notice.

"Alright," she decided after a moment. "I'll forgive you."

"You will?"

Helen rolled her eyes. "Yes - - _but_ you have to promise me you won't make me worried about you again."

"You were worried about me?" I repeated, raising my eyebrow at her.

Now it was her turn to blush. "Shut up! Just promise."

I smiled a little to myself. It was fun making her embarrassed. "I promise," I said mock-seriously.

We exited the Big House and walked across the camp's lawn, headed for Rachel's cave. I again marveled at how beautiful Camp Half-Blood was - - until pegasus poop landed on my head with a wet _plop_. Helen burst into laughter so hard she was literally crying, and I spluttered in surprise. The camper whose pegasus had unloaded on me called down a mirthful apology from the sky.

"You wouldn't happen to have a towel, would you?" I muttered darkly.

Helen wiped her eyes. "Ah, no, sorry. Your face..." She glanced at me again and exploded in giggles. "Gods, Kris, it's priceless!"

And so I ended up at Rachel's cave with flying horse poop in my hair. It was stinking something terrible, and I desperately wanted it off of me. I didn't dare touch it, though. I may have been a strong son of Apollo, but even I had my limits concerning gross things.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare, our camp's oracle, lived in a cave in a hill whose entrance was covered by a dark shroud. The place made pretty much everybody feel nervous, even though Rachel herself was one of the nicest people I knew. She was usually at finishing school around this time, but I supposed she'd been allowed some time off. In any case, standing in front of the blanketed entrance to her cave, my shackles were raising.

"Helen," I said, "wait here for me."

She blinked. "Wait, why?"

I looked at her apologetically. "I can't really explain it myself - - it's just a feeling I'm getting, like I'm meant to go in there alone."

"Okaaaaaaay," she said slowly. "If... if you say so."

I could tell Helen didn't like it, but she nodded and stepped back.

Unsure why I had told her that, I shrugged it aside and pushed through the blanketed entrance alone.

The inside of the cave gave me an even more mysterious, creepy feeling than the entrance. It was dimly lit with torches that had been hung on the rock walls. They gave off an eery golden glow and threw dancing shadows everywhere. A cold mist hung in the air that clung to my skin. More dark shrouds hung part-way down from the ceiling, spaced evenly along the tunnel I found myself in, leading some distance away to a door that had warm light coming from underneath it.

_This place needs an extreme home makeover, _I thought dryly as I made my way to the door at the end of the tunnel.

The door in the tunnel creaked open at the touch of my hand, and I stared in shock at what was on the other side. It was nothing like the rest of the cave.

The door opened to a wide cavern in the hill, the size of a school auditorium. I hadn't realized I'd traveled far enough to reach a part of the hill that could support such a large room. The gaping cavern was warm and filled with sound, which came from speakers that had been hung up on the walls and were connected to widescreen TVs. The floor was carpeted with a flush rug of soft red, and in the far back of the room sat a pretty girl about my age, who had hair like fire and bright, round cheeks. In her hand she clutched a Wii Mote, though I only recognized the sleek white controller as such because of Al.

The fiery haired young woman was staring intently above me. I blinked and directed my gaze upward and behind me, where Mario was leaping and bounding across an HDTV screen. The sounds of coins being collected and Goombas being stomped made my ears ring a little.

I coughed awkwardly.

She didn't even glance at me.

I cleared my throat loudly. "Hello, Rachel," I said.

Rachel flinched, and a disappointed little tune blared from the HDTV's speakers. She glared at the Wii Mote and looked like she was about to toss it across the room, but then looked up at me. She paused, then hurriedly shut off the TV above me and dropped her Wii Mote on the carpeted floor.

"Oh!" Rachel exclaimed, standing up quite abruptly. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize anybody was coming! You're Kris, aren't you? I've seen you around the camp before."

I nodded. "Will said I should come see you. We were worried about Apollo not answering our prayers."

"Not answering your prayers, huh?" Rachel's voice was a strange mixture of a New York and Connecticut accents, although it was somehow endearing. She fiddled with the sleeve of her vibrant pink shirt. "That's strange. Come over here, Kris, and we'll talk about it."

She leaned down and pressed a button on the Wii Mote, which confused me since the TV and likewise her Wii were both off. But suddenly a wall of the cavern slid open with an eery silence, as though it were sliding across air rather than rock, and a leather office chair rolled out of the compartment to park itself beside Rachel's own.

"Whoa," I said, wide-eyed. "Hephaestus cabin?"

"Hephaestus cabin," confirmed Rachel proudly. "They actually helped me build this entire room. Leo programmed the Wii Remote himself to do tons of other things besides summon office chairs. That was before he went off with the other Seven and... you know..."

I winced. "Oh. Right."

The whole _Leo Valdez_ thing was a bit of a touchy subject around Camp Half-Blood, and even Camp Jupiter. He had been a cool and funny guy - - a lot like Al, actually - - during the few months he'd spent here, working on the Argo II. Then he'd departed with Annabeth Chase, Piper McLean, Jason Grace, and Gleeson Hedge on a quest to first retrieve the final demigods of the Second Great Prophecy, and departed on a quest to stop Gaea from destroying everything.

In the end, the poor guy had had to sacrifice himself to stop her. Jason hadn't been able to handle the fact that he was gone, and still insisted that he was alive, but nobody could see how he could be. After Gaea exploded, not even one of Leo's fingers had been found.

Leo Valdez was a true hero - - one of the greatest heroes since Luke.

But it still hurt to talk about him.

An uncomfortable awkwardness crept up in the cave before Rachel cleared her throat.

"Well," she said with a frown, "anyway, why did you come to me for a solution to your family trouble?"

I shrugged. "It's not just that Apollo hasn't been heard from in a while - - have you noticed that the days are shortening, even though it's spring time? They should be getting _longer_, not shorter. We think something's happened to our dad, something that could stop him from making his loop around the world. Will said you might've found something in one of Ella's prophecies that could help us figure it out."

Rachel closed her eyes. "Well... Come to think of it... there _was_ one rhyme that I felt stood out from the rest. I still get a pretty good inkling of what's immediately important and what's not. But that's just it, an inkling, and it's not always accurate. Besides, I don't think it said anything about Apollo, or light at all really. I've been kind of useless since the Oracle of Delphi was captured by Gaea's forces last summer."

"And all of the people who've quested to free it have disappeared," I agreed.

"Right. Here, I think I left my binder of Syballine Book prophecies in my - -"

But where it was, I never got the chance to find out. Just then, the door slammed open with a resounding crash, and Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin. I was surprised myself, but I only flinched and whirled around.

A boy I'd never seen before was standing in the doorway, panting, sweat running down his face. He had startling yellow eyes, and I was reminded rather unpleasantly of the monster that had chased Al, Nico, and I to Camp Half-Blood. His died blue hair had been carefully combed up into a Mohawk - - perhaps by a daughter of Aphrodite. The new kid looked a couple years younger than me, about 13 maybe, but he was already my size.

I began to say, "Who - -"

"Brian Eastwood, a son of Iris," said Rachel. Her eyes had gone decidedly dreamy, as if she were looking at a piece of toast that had been smothered in Nutella. "He arrived at camp a few days after you left."

"Rachel," Brian gasped, yellow eyes wide, "there's a nasty-looking dog at the camp boarders!"

I winced. "Is it larger than a tour bus and drooling like a hellhound?" I asked.

He turned to me in surprise. "Yeah. What are you, psychic or something? And wait, who are you, anyway?"

Rachel smiled and stepped up between us. "Brian," she said sweetly, "this is Kris Smith, a son of Apollo. Kris, this is Brian Eastwood. He's a really nice guy."

Brian gave a weak laugh and rubbed the side of his head in embarrassment. He reached out an arm, and I shook his hand firmly - - but no sooner had I touched him than a strange feeling ran up my back. It was like the sensation I'd gotten from shadow-traveling, but colder and more... evil.

Shadow-traveling had been like passing through ice. But the feeling I got from Brian was somehow... _chaotic_, like I was riding the world's worst bucking bronco. I felt like if I didn't grasp onto my concentration, I would slip and fall into... I didn't know what, but I got a very unsettling feeling about it.

Brian let go, and I took a step back, resisting the urge to shudder. Suddenly those yellow eyes seemed _exactly_ like Laelaps', a hunter searching for his prey. Itchiness crawled up my back like spiders.

What the Hades was wrong with me? He was just a son of Iris, the rainbow goddess. There was nothing bad about him.

"Interesting," Brian mused, gazing at me curiously. "I think we'll have a lot of... fun in the future."

Something about the way he said it made me think his definition of 'fun' was not the same as mine.

His words' creepiness seemed lost on Rachel, who just blinked and smiled. "Yeah. Anyway, about the dog?"

"Oh, right." Suddenly Brian was all down to business. "It's just like Kris said - - huge, snarling, and drooling worse than Mrs. O'Leary attacking a dummy. It's skirting around the camp's borders, apparently looking for a chink in our magic defense. The dragon under Thalia's tree tried to fry it, but its coat didn't even get a single burn."

There was no doubt about it. I cursed in ancient Greek. "It's Laelaps," I said. "Nico, one of my friends, and I were chased to camp by it. I thought my friend - - his name's Al - - had gotten rid of it, but I guess it's back."

"Laelaps?" said Rachel with a frown. "But wasn't it..."

I cut her off with a tired hand. "Yes. I know. But a Kynokephaloi I killed earlier today cursed it to chase Al and I until it caught us."

Brian shrugged. "Well, I didn't really care why it was here. I just thought you should be warned, Rachel. It was heading to the borders near here last I heard."

"Thanks for letting me know," Rachel said.

"If it's all good, then I'm off. Butch is making us clean the pegasi stables... again."

Brian turned to leave, and his yellow eyes momentarily connected with my brown ones.

And suddenly my head hurt like Hades. I staggered backward, Rachel looking at me in surprise and preparing to catch me. It was as though I'd been hit with a sledgehammer. My vision swam, and the brightly lit, theater-like cavern faded into a room that looked entirely different.

It was dark. That was the first thing I noticed about the room I saw. It was dark, so dark I couldn't see the walls, and the floor was soft and spongy. The ceiling seemed to be far above my head - - maybe thirty feet, perhaps forty. The only light came from an impossibly long flight of steps in front of me. The edges of this staircase had been lined with stone basins that contained an angry purple fire.

My head tilted upward as I tried to see what the staircase led to. It was a strange flight of stairs - - located splat in the middle of the room, and stopping before it reached any wall. At first I thought it was a complete architectural failure... maybe The Fault in Our Stairs?

But as my gaze reached the top of the staircase, my breath caught in my throat. I had to hold back a sob.

I realized it wasn't an architectural flaw at all. Actually, it was an altar... and a sacrificial altar at that. How could I tell? The answer was simple - - at the very top of the stairs was a wide circle, and in the center of it was a rectangular slab of stone that looked like it had been cleaved straight off of some mountain.

The front of the stone, the side that faced the staircase, was a kaleidoscope of colors. The colors merged and divided and darted around the surface, occasionally even bubbling out like sunbursts. And in the very center of the dark rainbow mixture was none other than Apollo. My father was unconscious and bloody, his mouth frozen in a silent scream, and he was sinking backwards into the stone at a snail's pace.

The sight shook me to the core. What could make a god look as terrified as Apollo, even unconscious? What was Apollo being sacrificed for?

Then I felt two soft hands catch me, and my eyes snapped open.

"Kris!" Rachel cried, staring down at me in shock. "Are you okay? You totally just blacked out."

My eyes darted around the cavern crazily. "W-What...? But... but there was a dark room... a-and a staircase... And Dad..." I choked. "Apollo was being sacrificed for something."

Brian's eyes furrowed. "Man, what just happened? You look paler than Nico."

I looked at him in utter confusion, Rachel still supporting me. My knees felt like butter.

"I... don't know," I said slowly, shaking my head in an effort to clear the sudden confusion.

Could it have been a vision? That seemed the most likely explanation.

As Rachel fussed over me and tried to convince me to go take a rest in the infirmary, Brian left quickly.

"...Let's get you to your cabin," Rachel finally decided. "You need rest."

"Who died and made you doctor?" I muttered.

But Rachel was as stubborn as a child of Nike. "I'm serious, Kris. I nailed the Titan King in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush. I know my demigod stuff."

"But that has nothing to do with - -"

"Just get some rest," she sighed, and I reluctantly let her help me out of the tunnel.

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><p><strong>And so the mystery deepens. A lot of people seem to get visions around Rachel, don't they? First Piper, now Kris. Huh.<strong>

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter of _Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness!_ If you did, I welcome you to follow it so you can be updated when I post a new chapter, favorite it if you want, leave a review, yada yada yada. You guys know all that already. I really shouldn't even have to say it by now. But seriously though! I would appreciate you guys doing all of that schist. Please? Pretty please with an Underworld pomegranate on top?**

**Come to think of it, that would probably make you guys want to do it less. Who'd want to get stuck in the Underworld for the rest of eternity just for clicking a stupid favorite button?  
><strong>

**-TheRealEvanSG**


	8. Come on, Get Higher

**Moshi, moshi! That's how the Japanese say hello on the phone, BTW... anyway, I'm sure your aware of this since you are indeed reading this author's note, but I've finished the next chapter of ****_Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness!_**** Yay! I'm not lazy... at least when it comes to writing this. When it comes to doing homework? Not so much. lol**

**Also, I believe I said earlier that each character was getting four chapters in their point of view before it rotated. Well, I decided to change that. Only Al's getting four chapters when it comes his turn. Kris and Helen will both tell three chapters in their POV when it's their respective turns.**

**Chapter 8 start!**

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><p><span>Chapter 8: Come On, Get Higher<br>

**Helen**

When Kris came out of the cave being dragged by Rachel, I knew something bad had happened.

It had been _super_ boring waiting for the big dummy to get done talking to her, and part of that may have been because that new guy, Brian Eastwood, tore into the cave like a hurricane. He didn't even glance at me on the way in, but as he came out, he stared eerily at me for several seconds. Then Brian strolled back to the main camp like he owned the place.

I had to resist the urge to punch him in the face.

The dude really creeped me out.

"Oh," said Rachel, somewhat distastefully as she let the cave's blanket fall into place behind her and Kris. She frowned down at the pale-looking son of Apollo. "I didn't know you'd brought Helen with you."

Kris managed a weak laugh. "She's my friend, of course I'd bring her."

I wasn't exactly _popular_ at Camp Half-Blood. Not only was I dyslexic and ADHD like all demigods, but I also had a little problem with multiple personality disorder, and nobody was quite sure how to act around me. One second I was a perfectly nice, lovable-if-not-ditzy girl. The next I was a psychotic sadist with more of a taste for battle than Clarisse on Mondays.

Trust me, I was just as confused by it as everyone else.

But Kris... Kris was willing to put up with me even during my bloodthirstiest moments. He'd even stick around when I demanded he fight me sword tip to bullet for rolling his eyes at something I said. I knew it had to be hard on him putting up with all my crazy schist.

Maybe that was why he'd left the camp without even warning me...

My biggest fear was that one day my second personality would kick in and make me do something so drastic, he'd finally decide enough was enough. Or maybe I'd accidentally hurt him, and he'd hate me for the rest of his life. If that happened... I wasn't sure how I'd be able to forgive myself.

Rachel raised her eyebrow. "Well, whatever. Helen, can you take Kris back to his cabin? He fainted in my cave... said something about a vision of his dad."

I nodded and grinned. "Will do, Rach!"

"Thanks..." she said, smiling uneasily at me.

Kris coughed. "Okay, I don't need two girls fighting over me. Let's just go back to Cabin 5 already."

"So," I said as we walked away from the hill, over the lush green grass. "Answers."

"Oh, right." My only true friend gave a little sigh, which sounded funny in his super-deep voice. "I almost forgot about that. I left for the city because Dad wasn't answering my prayers, and... well, I had managed to half-convince myself that maybe he was just too far away to hear them or something. Stupid, I know, but I was getting worried."

My stomach did euphoric little flips. Thank the gods! Kris _hadn't_ been too exhausted from dealing with me.

The day seemed suddenly as bright as summer, even though the sky was slowly darkening into evening light... and it was about three.

"So how was school?" I said with a skip in my step.

Kris shrugged. "Meh. Boring after knowing what Camp Half-Blood's like. I was getting headaches all the time from trying to read the textbooks, too."

I winced. If there was one downside to being a demigod, it was not being able to read. If we weren't able to get Ancient Greek translations of modern books at the camp store, I didn't know how I'd survive. I _need_ Augustus Waters in my life, man.

For the next few minutes, we talked about little things on our way to the Apollo cabin - - how we were doing, what had happened at camp recently, and Kris's problems at the school he'd attended. He told me about meeting and befriending Alistair. He told me about Mrs. Jones, his crazy dog-headed English teacher.

"What's with that Brian kid?" he asked, frowning.

I blinked. "You mean Brian Eastwood, the son of Iris? He's... well, he's kinda weird. Everybody seems to like him just fine - - you probably noticed, but Rachel's even head-over-heels for him. But I dunno... he gives me a weird feeling. I'm not even sure where he came from. He just kind of... showed up one day."

"Showed up? What do you mean?"

"Exactly that. One day he wasn't here. The next, he was. It was freaky."

The blond's eyebrow arched. "That _is_ weird."

"And everybody acted like he'd been there forever."

"You know? Something strange happened when I met him in Rachel's cave, too." He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. "When he looked at me, I got a vision of my dad being sucked into some weird block, like he was being sacrificed."

By now we'd made our way onto the green where the cabins were located. To our left was Hera's cabin, graceful and elegant, with walls made of pure marble. It was actually one of my favorite cabins - - not necessarily stand-outish, just quiet and yet beautiful. Next to that was Zeus's cabin - - a building that, while not very big, was obviously important and lorded it over all the other cabins, much like its patron god.

The other cabins I didn't have any particular feelings for and it would've taken too long to describe them all, anyway. Since the Second Giant War (which I hadn't been here to see), a good several more had been erected. Now there was a cabin for Janus and Boreas, among others.

Even Thanatos had been allowed his own cabin, because although he didn't actually have any kids (that we knew about), he'd been monumental in winning the previous war. The way Percy Jackson, Frank Zhang, and Hazel Levesque saw it, he'd deserved at least some honor.

I helped Kris walk across the lawn. His face was slowly regaining some color, but he still looked pretty tired.

Luckily, we didn't have far to go. Cabin 7 was right in front of us.

The home of the Apollo kids was a normal enough cabin, but looked like it was constructed from 14-karat gold when hit by sunlight. It was quite a beautiful sight to behold. Unfortunately, since the sky already thought it was evening, we weren't treated to the view then. Slightly disappointed, I led Kris up onto the porch of his cabin. The door was already open, and beautiful, though mostly sad music drifted from inside. I had been happy enough before, but I suddenly wanted to burst in tears.

I blinked and shook my head, and the sadness went away. It must've been a side-effect of the music Kris's brothers and sisters were playing. Those guys were as amazing with a lyre as they were with a bow.

I knocked on the wall. "Yo! Delivery!"

Kris punched my arm, although it didn't have any force behind it. "What am I," he asked, "a FedEx package?"

"Yes," I told him seriously.

He snorted. "I don't know why people are afraid of you, Helen."

Someone appeared at the door of Cabin Seven. The newcomer was a short girl with pretty, wavy hair that flowed down her back. It was as red as the sunrise. I was immediately jealous. My own brown hair was so boringly common. I'd always wanted to be a ginger or even a blonde. I'd thought about dieing it several times, but my cabin counselor put a stop to that idea quickly.

(Apparently having green hair would be "too much of a distraction." Meh. Whatever.)

When she saw me, she tilted her head thoughtfully. "You're that Nike girl, Helen, aren't you?" she said.

My multiple personality disorder chose that moment to kick in. "Are you stupid or something?" I sneered. "Of course I am! What's it to you, huh?"

The ginger whose name I didn't know took a step back. "Whoa! S-sorry... I... was it s-something I said?"

"Don't act like you're so innocent! You wanna fight me, don't ya? HUH?"

"Hey, calm down, Helen," soothed Kris, managing to get in between us and push me away from the ginger. I'd been stepping towards, her cracking my knuckles. But Kris's deep voice seemed to pull the real me back. I suddenly felt dizzy, and I stumbled backward, clutching the side of my head.

"Oh, Hades," I groaned.

Kris sighed. "You back?"

Once the wooziness that always came with returning to my original personality faded, I nodded my head. "Yeah... sorry about that."

He turned to the ginger. "She really is sorry, Taylor. Helen's got multiple personality disorder. When someone says something offensive to her - -"

"- - It's like my body's a really dangerous car," I supplied, "and some crazy psychopath has taken control of the wheel."

"Oh." The girl, Taylor, laughed awkwardly. "Well... what's with you, Kris? You look pale."

Kris shrugged. "Got something like a vision in Rachel's cave. She made me promise to get some rest. Apparently I nearly fainted..."

"Hey, by the way, Kris," I said, "there's a new war game on Friday. Let's try not to get on the same team, eh?" I grinned. "You're strong. I'd like to beat you."

He laughed awkwardly. "Uh... yeah, sure."

Taylor frowned sympathetically and ushered him inside. Kris gave me a tired smile as he went. I sighed. I had been hoping to spend a lot of time with him since he was back, but I didn't know what to do now. My cabin had finished our plans for the day earlier than we'd expected. Most of the Ares cabin was probably training in the arena. I had no doubt the Stolls were off pranking someone or stealing something.

I stepped off the porch of Cabin 7, and my eyes landed on the climbing wall. I'd had bad experiences with it in the past, but...

I took a deep breath. "Might as well give it a go," I muttered to myself.

* * *

><p>News flash: I suck at climbing.<p>

You're probably thinking, _Whoa, what!? The daughter of victory actually fails at something!?_ Well, the answer is yes, and that fact really irks me. Being Nike's daughter, I'm naturally competitive. Any kind of failure irritates the Hades out of me, whether it's getting bad grades, getting rejected by a guy, or even just not understanding an inside joke.

And maybe it's because I have Mom's blood in my veins, but no matter how pointless it is, I'll always want to keep trying until I succeed in whatever I failed at.

Which was probably the main factor that led to me standing at the foot of the rock wall.

I'd nearly gotten myself killed trying to conquer the thing many different times. Once, I was almost flattened between the walls, which randomly rumbled and smashed together. As it was, only my fingers became flesh pancakes, but the incident still used up a good supply of the Apollo cabin's ambrosia. Another time, I'd almost gotten myself torched alive by the magma that occasionally spewed from the wall's volcano-like top. My arms were still covered in burn marks from that day.

I chalked it up to not having enough upper body strength.

And so I found myself making yet another attempt. I had tried so many times before that I'd lost track, but I was determined to make it to the top today.

A small group of campers was also standing next to me, and one of them caught my eye. Unfortunately, I recognized the person, a tall girl with jet black hair and amber eyes. Her orange Camp Half-Blood shirt was far too tight on her chest. She wore yoga pants and real diamond earrings - - an odd combination, but whatever floats your boat, right? A curved Celestial bronze sword hung at her hip in a dark blue sheath.

The girl's eyes glinted dangerously. "Look, guys," she said to her group of friends. "It's the girl who can't decide whether she's a pushover or a psychopath."

My second personality flared up, urging me to let it take over and punch this stupid idiot to a pulp. I gritted my teeth and ignored it.

"Hey, Zelda," I grumbled. "Go take your attitude and shove it up your arse."

Zelda Jumpman was a total jerk and my self-proclaimed arch-rival. Her skin had so many tattoos on it you couldn't tell whether she was white or black, but she still thought she was the hottest girl in camp. Not many people liked her. She only had a following because people were afraid of her - - Zelda had a strange way of finding out your darkest secrets. Don't be fooled by her name. She is _definitely_ not a video game damsel in distress.

She was a daughter of Ares. Both Nike and Ares are extremely competitive, so Zelda and I often found ourselves at each other's throats. Whenever we met, we both caused our cabins more than their fair share of headaches.

Zelda hummed, smirking. "I'm sorry, but is that a challenge I hear? Pheh! You couldn't beat me if I had my hands tied and my eyes blindfolded."

"Well, _excuse me,_ princess! You want to test that statement on the rock wall?"

"Oh, please. You've tried to climb this thing at least fifty times, and you've never managed it once."

I cracked my dainty fingers. "So then what have you got to lose? If you're so sure I'm not gonna win anyway, you might as well put one over on me, no? Or are you afraid of me trouncing you?"

"Interesting." Zelda's eyes narrowed. "Alright, if you're so confident. But don't cry to your cheating mommy when you get burned alive and I get to the top."

We glared at each other with the ferocity of wild animals. Zelda's 'friends' stepped back nervously.

I looked up at the top of the rock wall. "First one to the top wins?" I said.

"Sounds good to me."

We nodded grudgingly at each other, then tensed our muscles. Behind us, one of Zelda's friends called the countdown. At the shout of "Go!" we took off, dashing for the base of the rock wall, calling petty insults to each other as we went.

Zelda and I both reach the base at the same time, latching onto the first handholds. We grunted with exertion as we scrambled up. No usual rock wall safety gear was allowed, and you had to use just your hands and feet. Add the lava flowing down the sides and the walls shaking and smashing together, and you had yourself a tough climb. Many a hero had been created on these cliff faces.

When I reached the first resting point, a smooth ledge built into the side of the wall, Zelda was already ten feet above me.

"You just talk big!" she called down, snorting. "Look at me! I'm beating you already. I bet your mother is so proud of you, isn't she? Ha! As if."

I growled in annoyance. "I'll knock you off of this dumb thing!" I said, my second personality hijacking my body. I didn't allow myself time to rest - - I latched onto another couple of handholds and pulled myself up as quickly as I could. My feet dug into any niches they found. With a half-defiant, half-aggravated yell, I climbed around a sudden lava flow and slowly closed the distance between us.

Zelda blinked in surprise. Then she frowned and started climbing again.

Several more minutes into the climbing contest, hand slipped as the wall rumbled. Startled, my feet lost their places on the wall, and I suddenly found myself hanging by one hand. A nearby Roman eagle (yes, you'd heard right; we'd borrowed a few from Camp Jupiter in case of aerial emergencies) circled below me to catch me if I fell.

My arm shook with the effort of holding the rest of my body.

I heard a sharp laugh from above me. "Ha! Now I've really got this in the bag!"

The thought of Zelda winning sent a new spurt of strength through me, and I swung myself so that my left hand could get a new grip. My arms still hurt, but with my reestablished position, I was able to slip my feet into a couple of crevices I found, and started climbing up even faster than before.

Much to Zelda's shock, we were soon neck-to-neck, grinning dangerously at each other. As we scrambled up the rock face, we bumped into each other, purposefully kicking the other's side in an attempt to knock one of us off the wall. We were about three-quarters of the way to the top. Beneath us, a small crowd of campers had gathered to watch our competition.

"No way am I letting a personality-confused blockhead like you beat me!" cried the black-haired girl as we pulled ourselves onto a small ledge. Standing up, she unsheathed her sword, which she hadn't bothered leaving down below.

I stared. Even my second personality wasn't _that_ stupid.

"You... want to have a duel on the rock wall face?" I asked, my jaw dropping a little.

She made a _come hither_ motion with her hand. "Bring it... _bitch_."

That caught my attention. My body jolted, and I gritted my teeth. Nobody swore at Camp Half-Blood. It was like an unspoken rule - - if you wanted to cuss at all, you replaced it with things like "Hades" and "schist." We wanted a friendly environment here. If you tried cussing, you were just asking to get beat up in the Arena.

"That does it," I spat. "Alright, you're going down." I pulled two sheathed knives out of my jeans' pocket and thumbed them open. The sheaths I stuck back in my pocket.

Part of the reason I didn't have much upper body strength, which was unusual for a demigod, was because I didn't fight with a sword. My style was dual wielding twin knives. They were small, a little less than half a foot long, but the blades were dense and would slay monsters as well as any normal sword.

We paused a moment as lava flowed between us, scorching the ledge.

Then our respective weapons flashed through the air, locking against each other. We pulled apart and attacked again. My left hand knife swung to deflect my opponent's sword. At the same time, I brought the knife in my right hand stabbing downward at Zelda.

She reacted with fairly respectable speed, backing up so I missed her completely. However, she almost stepped right off the edge of the ledge. Scowling, Zelda slid her foot forward again, twisting with the action and using the momentum to thrust her sword powerfully at my stomach. I twisted and pressed my back flat against the wall. As Zelda stumbled past, I casually tripped her.

She face-planted, almost tumbling right off the ledge. Zelda managed to catch herself with a hand on the rock wall, but her sword spiraled back down to the base of the wall.

"Wha - -" my arch-rival gasped. "How did... you cheated! That wasn't honorable Greek fighting!"

I snorted, pleased with my victory. "As if you know anything about honor."

"But I... I could've died!"

"Shouldn't have come to Camp Half-Blood, hun," I said while licking the flat of my knife, "if you're that worried about your life."

Zelda scowled at me, picking herself up. "You - - you - - SADISTIC FREAK!"

My eyes flashed and I dropped my knives. I drew back my fist, ready to punch the annoying daughter of Ares right off the ledge, but at that moment, another flow of lava trickled down the rock face. My foot almost got caught in its path. Yelping, I abruptly switched to my original personality, and lost all of my confidence... along with my balance.

I stumbled backward - - straight off the ledge.

"OH SCHIST!" I screamed as air hurtled past me, but luckily a Roman eagle intercepted my fall. It flew me to safety on the grass below.

I ran to the base and started climbing again, but the campers all started reluctantly cheering. Glancing up, I saw Zelda swooping down on her own Roman eagle, smirking triumphantly. She must've taken her chance and reached the top.

Behind me, the clopping of horse hooves could be heard. I turned, and Chiron was walking toward us.

"Helen. I saw you and Zelda fighting on the wall," he said with a mysterious frown. "What was that about?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but Zelda dropped down beside me before I could. After regaining her balance, she said, "Helen tried to kill me, sir. She attacked me on the ledge and almost knocked me off the side."

"You can't die like that, at least not anymore," Chiron reminded her. His voice was deep and his breath smelled like coffee. "The Roman eagles have made sure of that. Would you kindly mind telling the truth?"

Zelda's fist clenched. "That is the truth, sir."

"Helen? Would you please describe your side of the story?"

I nodded. "We challenged each other with a race up the climbing wall. She was in danger of losing to me, so when we both arrived at the same ledge at the same time, she made me duel her. I tripped Zelda, and she lost her balance." After a moment's pause, I added, "She also called me a sadistic freak."

Chiron sighed. "That last bit of information is unnecessary."

"Yes, sir."

The campers muttered amongst themselves, shouting out things like, "So who's right?" and "It was Zelda's fault!" and "We better not have cauliflower at dinner again tonight!"

"It was an accident," called Chiron over the squabbling campers. "No one was at fault, and no one was in any real danger. The harpie that snuck in the cauliflower last week has been sent to Tartarus."

Relieved sighs resounded. Zelda and I glowered at each other.

"Now that that's settled... will everyone please return to their daily activities?"

We reluctantly dispersed. The campers joked around, shoving each other playfully and dreaming out loud about what they wanted to eat for dinner. I sighed and supposed I'd just borrow a Greek-translated book from the Athena cabin or something.

As I walked to the cabins, I caught Zelda's eye again. She sliced her finger across her neck furiously. _I'll kill you later_.

I shot her with a finger pistol. _Not if I kill you first_.

It wasn't until later that evening, reading a Greek edition of the _One Piece_ manga in my cabin, that I realized something.

"Schist," I cursed, slapping my hand to my forehead. "I left my knives on the climbing wall!"

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry if I made any of you worry! I may have some long pauses between posting chapters, but I won't let this become a "dead fic." I care about my writing and my fans too much for that. So, yeah, I hope Helen is an acceptable enough character for you all! I know how much you guys despise Mary Sues. If anybody thought she was one, and still think she is, well... you won't be thinking that by the end of my fanfic. Trust me, certain events will come into play that prove she is not a Mary Sue.<br>**

**I hope you all enjoyed this newest chapter of _Alistair Shepherd and the Perpetual Darkness_. If you did, please follow and/or favorite! It's a win-win situation for both of us and you have an unlimited number of times that you can do both. Neither action is necessary, but I do highly appreciate the thought. I also wouldn't say no to some reviews! Love the story? Like the characters? Have a question about something? Type away! As long as it's not a flame, I welcome any and all reviews.**

**Bye for now!**

**-TheRealEvanSG**


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